


All This and Heaven Too

by cecilantro



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Music, Manager Caleb, Other, Sharing a Bed, Singer/Artist Mollymauk, Slow Burn, hopefully slowburn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-06-30 18:51:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 82,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15757635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecilantro/pseuds/cecilantro
Summary: Caleb Widogast has a vested interest in making the new arrivals to Zadash Records into stars, even if he's not so popular as a manager. It doesn't matter, becauseeverythingthat he touches turns to gold.He's given a new challenge, an upcoming indie artist by the name of Mollymauk Tealeaf.And unlike the other clients that he's worked with, Mollymauk actuallylikeshim.Maybe they can find their dreams in one another.





	1. From The Ground Up

**Author's Note:**

> Tags'll change with content, and there's no set update schedule, but hiiii! ya boi is back on his bullshit.
> 
> This chapter's song is:  
> [From The Ground Up - Sleeping At Last](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tq4Aylbf_oU)

“Come in, Caleb.”

He sees Bryce’s eyes flicker up from their paperwork for all of a split second before they call for him, and he comes into their office quietly. Caleb likes Bryce’s office.

It’s wall-to-wall with various biographies, autobiographies, hardback copies of plays and the classic books that they keep only for the aesthetic of it, but sentimental. Things they’ve been given by clients, the histories of the people they’ve driven to success, pressed between pages the printed dates that each of their albums went platinum, gold, silver.  
Caleb admires their dedication.

“You wanted to speak with me about a potential client?”

Bryce sets their pen down and laces their fingers together, looking up to meet Caleb’s eyes.

“Yes, yes, we have another new one in today. Where’s Nott?”

“Making coffee.”

“Good- take her with you, I know what you can get like. Don’t look at me like that, Caleb,” Their tone turns sharp at the edges at the face Caleb pulls, “It’s not a negative. People need different things to do what they do. You’re a good man, and a good manager, you just need the support.”

“Yes, Bryce.” Caleb tries not to grunt. Bryce’s lips quirk upward to the left, an attempt not to smirk, a failed one at that.

“You can find them waiting in your office- I saw them in there myself, they’re a patient person. Very sweet. Yasha knows them, she’s their contact, and if you have any problems with them that you can’t solve with me…”

“Don’t involve the brand name, and go to her.” Caleb smiles a little, “Thank you.”

“She’ll see you settled. Good luck, Caleb.”

It’s a dismissal, and Caleb inclines his head respectfully as he steps back to the door, the pen is already in Bryce’s hand and scratching away.

Caleb bids them farewell, and slips out of the office, makes a detour toward the staff room to pick up Nott.

 

 

“Oh, Caleb!” Nott’s shrill voice is a blessing to Caleb’s ears, “That was fast. Is everything okay?”

Caleb, admittedly, isn’t feeling too great. The new clients are always the most nerve-wracking, but the chances are that the client will hate him, and he’ll go back to accounting for Bryce until the next one comes along. Or, on the off chance that they don’t immediately despise him, it’s a few months of tense, awkward work where they pretend that they like one another. Nothing back-breaking. It’s fine.  
But his eyes and mouth betray that, Nott sees the bags under his eyes, a darker shade of the sky that colours his irises, she sees the sick and sallow colours on his cheeks and the way the corners of his mouth are pulled a little too tight.

“ _Ja_ , just, you know… new clients. Bryce has recommended that you join me, if you would not mind?”

“Sure, sure. Here, I made you a coffee.”

Black, one sugar, the way Caleb likes his jarring coffees. He takes it from her with a grateful nod.

“Off then?” she asks him, and her voice is the gentle one she uses when he’s on his borderline so he frowns.

“I am not there yet. But yes- they have been waiting in my office long enough. Best not to keep them waiting- would you mind waiting just outside? I would prefer the first-”

Nott cuts him off, “I know, don’t worry! You like your alone time with the newbies. You got it.”

“Thank you, Nott.” Caleb sighs a little and they make their way out of the room, toward the stairs, “You are far too kind for the likes of me.”

Nott disagrees, but knows better than to argue.

 

They take the stairs down the three flights to Caleb’s office. He’s on the second floor, the staff room is on the fifth, the midway point between the ground and the top.  
They _could_ take the elevator, it would be quicker, less rigorous, but Caleb wants to stretch out the time as much as possible. They take the stairs so slow that Caleb has finished his coffee by the time they get to the correct floor, and he hands his cup to Nott as they come to the corridor his office is on.

Nott tells him she’s going to to rinse their cups out and promises that she’ll wait around the corner, in case she needs him, and then she scampers off toward the toilets.

 

Caleb sighs gently as he heads down the corridor, to his office to meet his new potential.

Most managers here, he knows, are assigned their clients and that's the end of it. But Caleb- Caleb is a special case, in many, many ways.  
Caleb is notoriously hard to get along with. He's too quiet, has too many problems, has to duck out too often but- dammit, everything that lets him touch it turns to gold under his fingertips and is pulled away to move above. Nobody that could stand him has ever turned down the chance to switch to a higher-up when Caleb has finished making them a success.

He's fine with that. The only person that Caleb needs also happens to be the second part of why he's a special case.

Nott, who hovers at his side as he moves- most folk, they have service dogs. Or cats. Or small animals.  
Caleb has a service Nott.  
She stays by his side most times, and helps him to calm when his anxiety is too much, when he goes into sensory overload, when he has a meltdown. When something goes wrong, Nott is there to put the pieces of poor porcelain Caleb back together again. She’s always close to him, a text, a slamming door away. She waits for him, she cares for him, she is the only one he can trust.

 

Caleb comes to the door of his office and pauses to peer through the window there.

 

His client- oh. His client is many things. Caleb flushes on first sight, they're attractive, for one, but- they exude confidence.  
Not the unwarranted, obnoxious entitlement that Caleb has met too many times, but a comfortable confidence.  
They're splayed on the sofa languidly, reclining with one leg crossed over the other and blowing gentle bubbles in their gum.  
They look like they are supposed to be here.

Caleb is a little jealous.

He can’t remember the last time he felt comfortable in his own skin.

He checks his possessions- his phone, accessible in his right pocket. His fountain pen and notepad in his left hand He straightens the collar of his turtleneck and pats his hair flatter, and then he opens the door to his office and his client looks up toward him.

“ _Hallo_ ,” he greets as he enters, like his heart isn’t already beating hummingbird-quick in his chest, “I am Caleb Widogast.”

He steps the short distance, offers them a hand, and they grin as they lean across, one chew to put their gum to the side of their mouth and they take the offer and shake. Their grip is firm, their hands are calloused and warm and their nails- would-be talons, on tieflings- are painted a pretty deep red, the colour of wine to match their lipstick. Their hair is pulled back and up, a bun bound with a braid that comes from under their right horn.

“Mollymauk Tealeaf, Molly to my friends. It’ll be easier anyway, I think.”

Caleb is so enraptured that he almost misses when they introduce themself. He catches it in enough time that it doesn’t seem suspicious,

“Mollymauk.” and he nods as he affirms, “And how should I address you?”

A slight frown of confusion crosses Molly’s brow.  
Caleb has already lost them. Sixty seconds is a record for a client to hate him, but he’s unsurprised; he’s only a garbage person, after all, an accountant with dreams above his station.

“What do you mean?” Their tone isn’t angry or upset. Just confused. Caleb pretends, too, that everything is okay,

“As in, would it be correct to address you as miss, mister, mixter…”

“Mixter?” Mollymauk visibly perks a little. Caleb finds himself twitching into a smile as they lean forward, “Is that- ah- a gender-neutral title?”

“It is used as such, yes, either for non-binary genders that prefer a neutral term, or to obscure gender.”

“That one, then, I think.” Molly smiles, “I don’t mind _mister_ either, but publically…”

“If your preference changes,” Caleb finally sits, “Then you can tell me at any time. Okay?”

“Thank you.”

Caleb quietly scrawls _Mx_ , and _they/them?_ On his notepad. He’s sure that one will come up in conversation naturally, and it will do no harm to refer to them as such anyway. Maybe this isn’t so bad.

 

They fall easily enough from there into business conversation. Caleb scrawls into his notes, Molly’s EP has seven songs, that their genre hovers somewhere around rock and edges into punk, an overall layer of indie covering it. Molly scoffs that they suppose their work could be considered- and they say the word with a sense of venom- _emo_ , but they don’t enjoy the term.

Caleb scratches that down too.

Mollymauk moves fluidly, mostly, Caleb assumes that they work out from the faint build of muscle on their bare arms. They’ve clearly got no sense of professional dress, wearing a high-collared armless vest that appears to be made of some kind of silk material, shining where it catches the light. Their pants, too, follow a similar distracting theme. Tie-dye jeans in red and black, with paler patches where the thread has worn, and torn knees. Whether that was intentional or not, Caleb has no idea. But their clothes hug their body like a form, and Caleb shifts a little in discomfort when he realises how closely he’s noticed this.

“Mister Caleb,” either sarcasm or an attempt at being formal, Molly leans forward, “Are you okay? You look like you’re about to be sick.”

“Excuse me a moment.” Caleb inclines his head and moves to open the door, Molly watches him stick his head out and call to the hall,

“ _Nott_ _!_ ”

There’s a few seconds of stillness, and then a little green goblin comes skittering around the corner to Caleb’s side, where she presses hard for a moment. They share a quick, murmured conversation that Molly doesn’t hear, and Caleb returns to his chair, with the goblin- presumably, to Molly, Nott- who sits on the arm beside him.  
Molly looks between them.

“Can I ask, or would you prefer to ignore it?” They direct to Caleb, who gives them a small smile.  
Ah, Molly likes that. It’s a good look.

“This is Nott. She functions for me something like a service dog, helping with my anxiety issues and panic attacks, and my intrusive thoughts. She comes with me most places.”

“Hi.” Nott greets, wiggles her fingers, and Molly inclines their head respectfully.

“Alright. So where were we- somewhere around genre?”

“Just finishing, I believe, before I got distracted.”

Molly shrugs, their shoulders make the most minute of movements but Caleb’s eye is trained,

“I get the bad brain feel. I know it can make you into a mess. It’s fine.”

There’s a brief silence as the cogs in Caleb’s brain creak and turn in the wrong direction, chewing themselves apart at an attempt at coherent thought, tearing out chunks of himself. Then Nott’s taloned fingers squeeze his shoulder, and Caleb’s brain catapults back to business mode.

“We were moving on to career aspirations.” Caleb’s tongue is practiced, “What _you_ want out of your career. What kind of musician you hope to be?”

Molly spends a moment thinking that one over, Caleb is glad of the respite to recollect himself. Molly taps their chin.

“Let’s see… well, obviously, I’d like to get a whole bunch of _laid_ , but who with a sex drive doesn’t?” and they follow it with a wicked grin.

Caleb would splutter, if he hadn’t heard it a hundred times before. He _likes_ it when they’re honest. Instead of being transparent, wanting to help to inspire, and all they want is a good fuck every time they’re on tour.

“That comes with the territory.” Caleb gives honestly in response.

“I also- look.” And they sigh a little, “It might sound really fucking stupid, I know that you can’t just… flip a switch and choose to change a life with a song. That happens, but I can’t make it happen. If it does- good! I want people to hold onto the things I do.”

They’re quiet for a moment.

“Even if it’s just music, if it’s something they’re holding onto in life, it’s one step further from death.”

Caleb gets the cold sense that Mollymauk is speaking from experience- and Caleb knows it too. When everything is so bad that even the most simple thing- a nice song, a pretty artist, the idea of an opinion of someone a thousand miles away- all those simple things can give you a reason not to lie down in the street and let the icy winds take you.

“I think,” Caleb says, and his voice is hoarse and quiet, “That is a very noble desire to have.”

“I want to be big enough that I can just… help people. I can throw money when people need it, and not have to worry about where my own next meal will come from.”

Caleb knows that feeling too.

“Have you lived that way much?”

“Living it right now.” Molly’s smile is edged with sadness, bitterness, “Yasha- you know Yasha? The security officer? She’s keeping me on my feet.”

“We can do something about that.” Caleb shakes his personality away from him. He is a robot, he is meant to be, it’s fine. He can’t care about Mollymauk in the way he might care for a friend. He clears his throat so he can give himself the confidence to speak,

“As for my managing technique- I like order. I do things in order, I take a lot of notes and put them in neat boxes. My way of working is to compartmentalise and work a bit at a time- I am difficult to work with, I know, but I require communication to do my job. I can advise, but will rarely take opportunities and deals without your explicit confirmation. I am here to manage, but not to babysit- your job is not just to look pretty and sing, it is to build yourself up the way I would build you.”

Molly’s head tilts minutely.

“You think that I’m pretty?”

Caleb nearly chokes on himself. That would be the thing that they caught on, of course, not the boxes and the obsession with neatness and lines and order.

“Yes.” He tells them honestly, “It works well for our clients to be pretty in this job. But all of that- the work and the communication- you understand?”

“Oh, yes, yes, I understand. You think I’m _pretty_ _?_ ”

“Yes, Mollymauk.” Caleb can feel himself turning cherry red, “I think that you are pretty. Do you have any further questions? _Unrelated_ , to my opinions on you.” the last added in a quick half-snap as Molly’s mouth opens. It shuts again, briefly, and opens, and,

“How long does it usually take from being picked up to going on tour?”

“Anywhere between a month and three. You don’t have the content for an album yet, so we will likely try to fit you into a tour as an opening act in the closest states, to build an audience, so we have _something_ to market to.” Caleb’s response is routine, he checks his notepad, scribbles something down, “Anything else?”

“That’ll be enough. Thank you, mister Caleb. It’s been… a day.”

“It certainly has.” Caleb grimaces a little, and offers his hand, “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

“And you.” Molly shakes, and their grip this time is light and gentle and when they draw away, it’s almost as though they leave trails of warmth where their fingers draw across his skin.

 

Caleb escorts them to the entrance to the building, and they give him a sweet smile as they leave, one without the bravado and comfort of their earlier confidence. Caleb waits for them to turn out of sight before slipping back inside and putting the heels of his hands to his eyes, pressing hard.

 

“You liked that one.” Nott’s voice is quiet. It means a lot for Caleb to like someone; when everyone leaves in the end, even the slightest bit of affection feels like a death sentence.

Caleb gives a hard breath of laughter and whispers,

“ _Ja,_ I did. I like them a lot.” and he pauses, brushes himself down, and continues at normal volume, “But it does not matter- come on, I would like… a coffee. And then I will report back to Bryce.”

“I’ll leave you on the way, I have to do something first.” Nott gives him a grin that draws up affectionate concern within him, and they head toward the elevator, side-by-side.

 

“Caleb!” Bryce catches him rounding the corner toward the staff room, and Caleb gives them a weak, sick smile. Nott has escaped to his office to call Jester for the weekend plans, so Caleb finds himself facing Bryce alone.

“Would you prefer here, or my office? I have the coffee maker going…”

“Here.” Caleb replies quickly. He likes the atmosphere of the staffroom in the evening, especially when the weather outside is grey and damp. It isn’t, not today, but the darkness is settling in and the weak, watery yellow light of the overheads feels warm, like home, to Caleb’s cold heart.

“Sit.” Bryce tells him gently, and Caleb moves to flump onto one of the nice soft sofas, curling into a corner closest to the table, whilst Bryce makes them coffee.

“Do you want hazelnut, or plain?”

Coffee syrups, but they could be a code for Caleb’s emotional state. He rolls the ideas, the tastes in his mind for a second.

“Hazelnut. Milk, one sugar. Please.” Caleb smiles at their back, and they visibly relax. Hazelnut tells Bryce that Caleb is okay, that he’s his usual self, it’s when he’s exhausted and overwhelmed that he goes for plain. It helps his sensory overload.

They come back to him with twin cups, Caleb knows they like the hazelnut too, he knows it’s because of him that hey grew to like it.  
They hand him a cup, and he takes a deep drink from it whilst he waits for Bryce to settle, propping one ankle on the opposite knee and settling with both hands around their cup. Caleb’s eyes meet the sofa; he thinks his life would be far easier with less attractive people in it, but here he is.

In a job. With all of those.

“Report at will.” Bryce nods, and Caleb launches automatically into a cut-and-press analysis of Mollymauk Tealeaf, the things they went, their career goals, Caleb’s weigh-in on where to send them next.  
His personal opinion is that they should work on content, get them to put together an album with a solid aesthetic or feel, possibly even shoot a music video if they can spare the risk of a budget. Sending them out as an opening act should wait a month or so, just so that they have a buffer, and if they’re successful enough coming off of the tour, they can drop the album. If not, they can market Molly further, make movie or TV deals for their music; Caleb goes into depth on that, though he hasn’t had a chance to listen to Molly’s EP, and doesn’t have a copy himself, the genre is popular in media at the moment.

Bryce listens to all of this and nods and sips and lets Caleb talk himself hoarse. And then they wait a little more, whilst Caleb takes a long drink from his coffee and shudders himself silent.

“What are your recommendations on merchandising? We’ll do a standard array for their first tour, of course, CD’s and wrist bands, maybe shirts. They’ll need a logo, or a branding. Can you sort that?”

“I can ask Jester, I’ll be seeing her this weekend. Though,” and he pauses to shift awkwardly, “You may want to pass all of this on to my replacement, I don’t think that they liked me much. I know that I’m- there is a word. Too… rigid, I believe, for them. They seem so relaxed and languid, so I suspect they’ll probably replace me.”

“Shut up, Caleb.” Bryce rolls their eyes affectionately, and Caleb’s lips quirk into a bitter smile. His eyes don’t leave the cushion of space between himself and Bryce.

 

Caleb and Nott head home at five PM, on the dot. They do it every day, Caleb doesn’t stay later than that, he has his routine and he sticks to it. Fridays, technically, work ends at four PM. But Caleb likes his routine, they’d gone home early one, and Caleb had spent the next two hours panicking that something would go wrong whilst he was away, something ridiculous, a car would drive into the building or Bryce would need him for something. And he wouldn’t be there, so he couldn’t do it, so he’d get fired and they would end up with no money and they’d be kicked out and- that was about where Nott knocked him out.

 

She’s learned to deal with his episodes better in the almost three years since then, of course. Instead of panicking about the things he knows are ridiculous but can’t stop anyway, they just work around it. Caleb gets an extra hour of work done, Nott calls Jester and they chatter hands-free whilst she drives home. No skin off of their noses.

 

They arrive home just before six and order takeaway, as they do every week, to arrive any time between six forty-five and seven thirty. It’s the most fluid part of Caleb’s evening, but he’s learnt that now. Sometimes, traffic is bad, business is busy, they order earlier in the day and schedule it for the earliest so that it will arrive in that window.  
The one thing they change is where they go to. One week, Chinese, another, pizza. This week, it’s the latter, Caleb chews his way idly through his four-cheese pizza and scrolls through another article, skim-reading for the information he wants.

He’s hoping to set up a charity, one day, hopefully soon. To help with mental health, specifically support for those with PTSD, education in triggers and understanding. He notes all of the things he needs down, and has a separate document, looking at what he can do to prevent the things that happened to him from happening to anyone else.

Nobody, he swears internally, should or will ever feel the way that he did.

 

It’s nearing eight forty-five when his phone buzzes three times in succession. There’s a thirty or so second pause between each buzz, and only a full minute after the third does he pick it up to read.

 

**From: [Unregistered Number]**

Hi Caleb, it’s Mollymauk Tealeaf! I asked Bryce for your number since you said you like communication and I thought this might be easier than waiting to catch you in the hallway or something.

 

 **From: [Unregistered Number]**  
Sorry, sorry, little nervous, little bit excited, you know. Anyway, I’m really glad to have you as my manager. You seem really nice, and I like your technique.

 

**From: [Unregistered Number]**

I’m excited to be working with you! See you on Monday x

 

Caleb re-reads the texts three or four times before it sinks in enough for him to save the contact as _Mollymauk Tealeaf_.

“Nott?” he calls through to the main room, and hears her feet plod as she comes toward him. Her head appears around his door,

“Caleb?” She asks, eyes wide, “Is everything okay?”

“You remember that- that client, from earlier? Mollymauk, the purple one?”

Nott taps her cheek as she pretends to think. She could never forget someone who had such an effect on Caleb, but it’s fun to make him wriggle sometimes.

“The pretty one, with the pretty lipstick?”

And she watches the way that Caleb’s cheeks colour. Why he went into a job with so many pretty people, Nott will never know.

“ _Ja_. That one.”

“What about him?”

“ _Them_ ,” Caleb corrects, “And- I thought I had screwed it up again but it seems that they liked me. So now, I am officially their manager.”

Nott gives a half-squeal of excitement and rushes over to hug him hard.

“I’m so proud of you!” She tells him, “You’re going to make this one great too!”

Caleb cuddles her back, lets the odd scent of leaf litter that hangs around her fill him, comfort him.

“Thank you, Nott. I hope so; I like this one a lot. I want them to be great.”

Nott pulls away,

“I’ve _got_ to text Jester- we’re going out tomorrow- no arguments! This is a _reason_ to celebrate!” his mouth had begun to open and she knows him so well. Her grin is dangerous and blinding and Caleb loves her.

He puts all of his research notes aside and begins to work on a schedule, a list of questions, things to work out.

He’s _excited_ \- actually excited to work on this, to make Molly great, to lift them up high and make them into the person they want to be.

 

It’s going to be great. He can turn this to gold, just like everything else.


	2. Flaws

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is:  
> [Flaws - Bastille](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1E36WU9Wzf4)
> 
> Caleb meets up with a friend and organises Molly's career.

Caleb has learned over the past couple of years that he has no fashion sense. Oh, black turtleneck, black pants is a perfectly acceptable aesthetic when the aesthetic you’re aiming for is _suave professional_ , but apparently, it’s not so good for nightclubs. And nightclubs are where Jester and Nott like to frequent the most.  
So Nott picks his clothes. Jester prefers to, but it’s rare she can get across town in good time, so she trusts Caleb’s style to her right-hand gal and closest friend instead, and Nott doesn’t disappoint.

On dressed up days, she goes for a collared shirt with short sleeves, and makes him throw on a blazer to go with it. And Gods fuck above, Caleb _hates blazers_. All of the edging and the inflexible fabric and the disgusting straightness of it all- but when they’re going to the gay bar, it’s a different story. She dresses him in what she calls her _bisexual nerd_ look, complete with his glasses.  
Caleb prefers his contacts. But one; it plays into the aesthetic of the whole thing, and two; Caleb had once gotten so drunk that he’d come home, forgotten to take his contacts out, and slept for twelve hours. He’d had to go to the hospital, and ended up with an eyepatch for a week on the eye that hadn’t dealt so well.

This weekend, it’s a gay weekend, so Nott throws Caleb’s grey t-shirt at him. It’s plain, Caleb mostly uses it for sleeping, but it works out as she digs in his wardrobe for an acceptable overshirt and ends up withdrawing a green and blue plaid one, long sleeves, but those’ll be rolled up. He shimmies his way into some skinny jeans- another thing he has an odd relationship with- and lets Nott roll his sleeves meticulously before she stands back and observes her work.

She tilts her head one way. And the other. She can’t figure out what’s missing, but Caleb already knows, he sighs and moves past her to pick his glasses from his bedside table and set them on his face.

He splays his arms for her.

“Acceptable?”

Nott is still frowning.

“You need a shave. But it’ll do for now- come on, we’ll be late!” and she’s away, leaving Caleb to scramble for his wallet chain and follow.

 

 

He might hate the skinny jeans, but the pockets are good and deep. Caleb has himself his wallet, his phone, and a fidget spinner, and there’s still enough room for one hand in there as the taxi pulls up and they climb out, Nott handing over the cash.

Jester waves brightly at them from her place outside. She’s smoking, something Caleb has rarely seen her do, and it generally means that she’s here for someone attractive. (Caleb sees a half-orc up against the wall beside her, tersely exhaling their own plume, and knows the assessment is right.)

Jester’s outfit for the night is a black, sparkly dress with a criminally short skirt. Caleb knows damn well she’s got shorts on under that thing, but you can’t tell from the outside, not really- the lines of the dress fall well across her curves. Jester probably made it herself.

Caleb feels a swell of pride and love for her.

 

“Hey, Caleb!” Jester greets and snuffs out the end of the cigarette, ditching it in the little box before she comes over. How she can run in heels, Caleb will never, ever know.

He finds her arms flung around his neck, and cuddles right back. He’s used to her by now, he’s used to this, Jester is soft and warm under the smooth velvet fabric of her dress, she squishes just the right amount, it’s a lovely feeling. Even if her horn knocks the side of his head a little hard and he sees a flash of stars in his vision.

“ _Hallo,_ Jester.”

“This th’ one you were tellin’ me about, Jess?” The half-orc saunters up beside Jester as she draws away, and she turns to them as if startled.

“Oh! Yes, this is him! Caleb, meet _Fjord_.” She bounces her eyebrows at Caleb as she does a _ta-da_ gesture toward Fjord. He withers her with his answering gaze of contempt, but offers Fjord a hand and a borderline friendly smile. At least he hopes.

Fjord shakes, nods in greeting,

“Caleb, huh? Jester said, uh- somethin’ about bein’ your type but-”

“I’m not _looking_ , Jester.” It’s half polite rejection and half dark seething, and Jester shakes her head,

“You can make your own bad decisions! That’s not why I’m introducing you.”

“Yeah, uh- no. I heard through the grapevine-” he jolts his head at Jester, “- that you’re lookin’ to set up a charity, an’ I think I might be able t’ help. I’m on staff for Homestead, myself, technically one o’ the foundin’ members but I don’t got the free time to dedicate myself the way it deserves.”

Homestead- Caleb recognises that name. Part of the charity’s work is ensuring the conditions of orphaned children’s homes are up to standard and working well, the other part is reuniting any adopted or orphaned children with what they can find of their family. Caleb can understand that. A noble cause.

“Ah- sorry, Jester, I should not have snapped. But _ja_ , I would be very interested in your expertise. Not tonight, perhaps, but when we are more sober and planning to stay that way- Jester has my number?”

“I’ll text you it now.” Jester pulls her phone from her bra and gets to work, and Fjord nods again.

“I wholeheartedly agree with that assessment. Thanks, Jes- now, first round’s on me as long as y’ain’t drinkin’ spirits. I’ll go for shots.”

“I can start with a shot.” Nott pipes up from partially behind Caleb, and Fjord jumps as though startled,

“Uh. Forgive me, but- are y’ old enough t’ be drinkin’?”

Nott pulls away the mask with the illusion spell, briefly, gives Fjord a look at her goblin face, her green skin and long ears and watches him jump. She’s disguised as a dwarf, when she puts it back on, and gives him a bright, mischievous grin.

“Noted.” He tells her, and Jester makes a wordless trilling noise, and leads them inside.

 

They sit at the bar together whilst they wait for the shots, and Jester carefully pops the little glowstick bracelet into place around Caleb’s wrist. Orange, for _not looking_ , she has her own pretty blue one for _either gender_ , it’s a system that she suggested for this establishment and she’s very proud of it. Pink for _girls_ , blue for _any_ , green for _boys,_ and orange for _not looking_ , it’s not foolproof but it works well enough.  
Fjord slides their shots over to them.

“Together?” Jester beams, excited, and Caleb nods and tries to keep the grimace off of his face. Nott counts them down, and they all knock back their shots. Caleb enjoys the burn; the trail it leaves in fire down his throat reminds him that he’s alive, that life is real, he and Jester order drinks- which is to say that Jester orders them both a pina colada- and find a seat, leaving Nott and Fjord to try and shot one another under the table at the bar.

 

Jester leans across the little table they manage to snag with a grin on her face that concerns Caleb six ways from Sunday. It’s sharp and her eyes are narrowed and squinting and _determined_.

 

“So,” She says in her low, faux-casual voice, “Tell me about your new client.”

Caleb sighs gently and takes a long suck through his little winding straw.

“Alright.” He concedes, “Their name is Mollymauk, and I know that I say this about every client I ever have, but they may be the most attractive person I have ever seen.”

Jester lets out a brief, loud laugh, and Caleb smiles and rolls his eyes. All for her benefit.

“So Bryce is off the cards?”

“They were never _on_ the cards, Jester.”

She waves a hand dismissively, “Whatever helps you to sleep at night! Go on, more about this Mollymauk.”

“Well.” Caleb gives his little sigh, the one that tells Jester he’s about to click into recite mode, and she sits forward as he begins a Bryce-style rundown of Molly, of their personality, of their goals. Jester’s eyes get wider and brighter the more he goes on, and he must lose himself somewhere because he catches himself with an empty glass somewhere around telling Jester how many of those pretty peacock feathers he’d managed to spot above Molly’s neckline. He speculates that there’s more, underneath, and it’s bugging him somewhat that he can’t count them all. The total visible is six, above the high-collar, and he stops as he tries to sip empty air.

“Oh.” He says, marvelling at the way that his vision warps a little when he moves. There must have been more alcohol in that cocktail than he thought. It doesn’t help that he hasn’t eaten today, to be fair, and it concerns him as much as makes him hum with pleasure. He likes being drunk, in some ways, it helps him to shrug his past when he can barely remember his own name. But, on the other hand, he has some somewhat intrusive thoughts about Bryce, about Mollymauk, about _Fjord_ , that he’d really rather keep quiet. And the alcohol greases the way for those secrets to slip free.

Jester waits patiently for Caleb to extract himself from the void he finds himself frowning into at the bottom of his empty glass, he chin on her hands and a smile on her face and her cupid’s bow nocked with a heart-tipped arrow.

Caleb looks up at her.

“Sorry, I got- distracted.”

“I want to be their stylist.” Jester tells him frankly, “I want to be their stylist, and you’re gonna make me their stylist.”

“If- if they are interested, I certainly will. It will be easier for me to work with you.”

“Good.” Jester’s grin widens, “I can’t wait to get you together! Another drink?” and she’s innocently off before Caleb can answer either way.

 

Caleb gets blind drunk. He doesn’t remember if he says anything about Molly, but he does kiss Fjord once, and they both laugh about it and agree that- no. Probably not. They’ll work together on the charity, but,

“Not really my type, no.” Caleb remembers himself chuckling, pressed to Fjord’s arm. And Fjord had laughed right back.

“Mine neither. Blame Jester.”

“Blame Jester.” Caleb affirms.

 

 

 **FROM: Mollymauk Tealeaf** **  
** Working the graveyard shift at the market, won’t be in until 12. Sorry, Caleb x

 

 

“ _Guten Morgen,_ Mollymauk.” Caleb comes into the staff room nearing midday, his phone still warm in his pocket from the short series of texts he’d shared with his newest client. They’d had trouble getting in, working two jobs, and they may not have told him but Caleb knows that they haven’t slept in over twenty-four hours. They clutch their coffee mug to their chest, knuckles pale with their grip, the shadows under their eyes a dark indigo, but they give him a gentle smile regardless.

“Hey, Caleb.” They greet, tone that light pleasant, “Won’t be morning much longer. Sorry I couldn’t be here on time.”

“We do what we must to survive.” Caleb gives them a very brief smile and shifts himself to the back of the sofa, holds a can out toward Molly, “I do not know if you drink energy drinks, and I would prefer that you’d sleep but without that as a possibility…”

Molly takes the can from Caleb with an expression of shock, the tips of their fingers brush Caleb’s skin ever so lightly, and leave trails of warmth behind them where they touch.

“Thank you.”

Molly flicks the can open with their thumb, and Caleb watches as they pour half of the can into their half-empty cup of black coffee. They meet Caleb’s eyes, and give him a grin halfway between manic stupidity and smugness, and they chug.

Caleb slow blinks, and absolutely does not find himself watching as Molly’s throat works to swallow the mess they’re making of themself.

“I cannot have you falling asleep on me.” Caleb’s tone is the professional monotone, he’s very glad it’s a mastery of his, “We have work to do.”

“I don’t have the energy to show you exactly how excited I am, but I am, you’ll just have to trust me.”

“I have no reason to doubt you.” Caleb finishes his own coffee, black, one sugar, comes to sit on the sofa on the side opposite of Mollymauk, already riffling through his satchel for his pen and notepad. One corner, when he pulls it free, is crumpled. He spends a moment flattening it, swallowing the bile in his throat and the thoughts in his head running on all the things that could go wrong from this rumpled page corner. Molly watches him carefully.

“If you straighten it out and clamp it between two flat things whilst you’re working, it’ll stay straight. If you use the other side, it won’t interrupt your writing.” They tell Caleb gently, and Caleb takes a deep, if jittery breath. He flips the pages over and holds the pad at a different angle, taking Molly’s advice, the page appears straight enough for now and Caleb scrawls the date at the top of the page and begins his blocking.

“The things that we will need to cover today are,” Caleb draws his lines for each one, “A potential first album, or the addition to your EP to make it marketable as tour merchandise and early release. And on that note, possible tour plans- Bryce has a few opportunities that they wish for me to discuss with you. Otherwise, things such as the marketing of your first releases, your album art, and lyrics booklets are the top of our priority list today.”

“Album art, you say?” Molly sits a little straighter, “I always wanted to do my own, but I’ve never been a good enough artist.”

Caleb worries his lip as he considers this statement,

“I would like to see some- some concepts, if you have any.” That should cover the risk of a confidence issue, “I have a contact I can talk to regarding album art. Actually, they may be a good contact to liaise with on the topic of tour outfits and styling; she is one of the top stylists at Zadash, and a good friend.”

“I have concepts at home.” Molly’s smile has turned to the edge of unease, and a frown creases Caleb’s brow just a little bit, but Molly doesn’t seem to notice, “I have a few of them you could pass on. If you have an expert artist, I’m definitely interested in meeting them! If we have the budget for a music video, I have an idea for that too.”

“It may be a little early for music videos, but I can contact Jester about the art. She has heard about you and is very excited to meet you.”

“Talking about me, hm?” Molly’s unease has dissipated to half-lidded eyes and a smile that would be borderline obscene, had they been wearing the lipstick of the other day. Caleb, ever the professional, holds his nerve.

“ _Ja_ , I was telling her about-”  
  
“Wait-” Molly interrupts, their expression turning to surprise, “Did you say Jester? As in, Jester Lavorre?”

“Well, that is the name that she uses, but- _Ja._ _Ja,_ that Jester.” It’s easier than explaining Jester’s virtue name choices, and quite honestly, Caleb isn’t entirely sure that the name he’s had sneak peaks of through her mail is a _real_ name, not a fake one. She has many of those.

“Yasha talks about her _all the time_!” Molly grins, “Her and- oh, what is it… B… Butt…”

Caleb has to muffle a brief bark of laughter with his hand, clamped over his mouth,

“Beauregard?”  
  
Molly snaps their fingers, points at Caleb like he’s pulled the sun up to dawn on them,

“Yes! Beau! Yasha doesn’t talk much, but she says a lot about those two.”

Caleb shakes his head half affectionately. Yasha has said maybe three sentences to him in the year and a half she’s worked here, at this office, and Caleb likes her a great deal.

“Well, Jester is an accomplished artist and stylist- hold on, I believe I have a photo on my other phone from Saturday night…”

He withdraws what Nott calls the _friend phone_ , a somewhat outdated model that’s nowhere near as bad as the old Nokia brick he’d had before, but is also nothing close to the up-to-date Apple phone that Zadash provides for work-related businesses. It takes a few moments for Caleb to find the photo- a selfie of himself and Jester where the majority of her dress is visible. There’s a trail of embroidered flowers in gold that Caleb hadn’t noticed on the night, but he shows the picture to Molly anyway, has to shuffle a little closer and finds Molly’s arm splayed across the back of the sofa behind him.

So call him touch-starved, that he has to fight not to lean back against that warmth.

Molly, when they’re close, smells oddly pleasant. Like lavender candles, not lavender itself, with the edge of some kind of drug or another. That could be an incense scent, or not, Caleb will never know. It’s nice, whatever, Molly eyes his phone and then Caleb feels a hand over the back of his own, steadying his shaking form and the phone in his grip.

“I see why Yasha likes her so much.” Molly murmurs as their eyes flash back and forth across the image. It’s wishful thinking, Caleb reasons, to consider they might let their gaze linger on a dressed-up Caleb, too.

“You- ah- you do?”

“She’s very pretty.” Molly sits up and draws their hand back from Caleb, who doesn’t feel the loss acutely at all, “It’s the eyelashes, and the freckles, and the muscles, I think.”

“She is famed for all of those things, yes.” And Caleb shuffles back to his place on the other end of the sofa, draws himself into as close a thing to a ball as he can, knees pulled to his chest, heels on his coat because he doesn’t want to get muck on the squidgy little sofa that the staff calls their second home, and occasionally their bed.

“Caleb?” Molly’s voice is gentle, “Everything okay? Do you want me to call Nott for you?”

Caleb would prefer the immediate comfort but, he considers, it’s probably unprofessional to ask Molly for that.  
So he nods instead, and Molly nods back, leans out as though they’re going to set a hand on Caleb’s arm and then decides better of it.

“I’ll talk to you about that later.” They muse, and then disappear, setting their can down on the table as they leave.

 

It takes Molly a minute or two to return with Nott, and she scrambles up on the sofa beside him and cuddles in, finds that he reciprocates readily enough and buries his face in the soft, bunched fabric of her cloak.

“Anything in particular?” it’s odd, how shrill her voice can be even at a whisper but he pulls his arms around her tighter anyway,

“Nothing that I can talk about.”

She nods marginally and they quiet to only the sound of Caleb’s slowly calming breathing, and Molly sipping their energy drink, waiting, patient. Caleb knows that logically, he should be getting on with this appointment, should be helping Molly and shuffling them off to go get some sleep but- if he pushes himself too hard, everything will go to shit.

 

It takes a few minutes, but neither Nott nor Mollymauk seems bothered. If anything, Molly is gentle, warm when Caleb lifts his head to the soft red gaze of Molly’s eyes.

They don’t speak, just blink at him kindly as he extracts himself from Nott and soothes her, assures her that he’ll be okay, he’s alright now, he just needed the grounding. She eyes him dubiously, but retreats to one of the other sofas with her phone, curls into her own little ball there and texts furiously. Either Beau or Jester, possibly even Fjord. Caleb doesn’t have the time to speculate.

“I’m sorry, Mollymauk.”

“You don’t need to be.” Molly sits up again and shrugs, “I’d rather have you than anyone else, doesn’t matter what it entails. I know that if I need to duck out because of my mental health, you’ll understand, and that’s a rare quality.”

Molly is shaking, swaying side to side and Caleb gives a little sigh,

“I refuse to keep you any longer, you will pass out. Let me walk you to the parking lot, at least, you are going home.”

“It’s fine.” Molly insists, “I’m walking anyway-”

“Oh, no.” Nott chirps from her sofa, “No you’re not. Caleb, _take them home_. I’ll deal with Bryce.”

“It’s _fine_.” Molly waves a hand, “I’ll be alright, really.”

“ _Nein_.” Caleb says firmly, and stands, tips the last of his coffee down his throat, “Nott is right, I will take you home. We can discuss along the way, and if you wish to stop me a street or two from your home, that is fine. Just let me get you close.”

And he offers Molly a hand up. Molly stares for a moment, swaying and shaking and exhausted, and then they take Caleb’s hand and lets their manager pull them to their feet.

“Alright. Thank you.”

Caleb shakes his head dismissively,

“I am not a manager to stay distant. It is part of why people cannot work with me, I need to be involved.”

“I wouldn’t have anything else.” The smile is audible in Molly’s voice, “See you later, Nott!”

“Bye, Mollymauk! Bye, Caleb!” Nott calls after them, and they leave together.

 

Caleb talks to Molly near-constantly on their drive through the city, if only to keep them awake.

“Mollymauk,” He tries, “If you were to add to your EP, maybe two or three songs, we could market it.”

“Mm-hmm?” Molly hums, slumping against the window, eyes fluttering as they try to keep them open.

“Why don’t you tell me about your song process? You write your own songs, as I recall.”

“Yeah…” Molly struggles upright, and Caleb’s grip tightens on the wheel. They’re kind of... cute, all exhausted this way.

“Tell me about one that you are writing.”

“It’s about hope.” Molly rubs their eyes, “About new chances and bravery. I call it _Midas_.” There’s a pause as they think, “Working title.”

“Do you think it may be opener material? We never got around to discussing those tours.” Caleb lets himself smile a little, “Bryce has options for later this month, or in three months time, and I believe that the one beginning the end of this month would be the best choice.”

Molly shifts a little. That’s gotten them awake.

“You mentioned Jester as- uh- as a stylist. And how she could help me with my album art? Does she have a work number, could you send it to me?”

“I will organise a meeting between the three of us.” Caleb assures them, frowns a little at Molly’s dodge, “We can work on the artistic side of things together.”

Caleb’s phone beeps softly at him, letting him know it’s time to turn, and he does. Molly smiles, they lean over as they slow at a set of traffic lights, and they set their hand over Caleb’s on the wheel.

“Thank you.”

The light changes colour, and Molly draws back to nestle into the side of the car, eyes already closing again, and this time, Caleb doesn’t stop them. He can’t, his tongue is tied in knots and he can find no words to keep their attention so he lets them slip to sleep and follows the SatNav to the address Molly had given him.  
It takes about ten minutes of Molly snoozing for Caleb to pull up at the address Molly had given. And he leans across to shake Molly’s shoulder.

“Mollymauk,” He says softly, “Wake up. You’re home, you can go to bed now.”

Molly yawns and stretches as they awaken, and they smile at him with the tear-rimmed eyes that come from sleep.

“Thank you.”

“Any time.”

He watches them get out of the car, and waits until they’re inside before he drives away. His protective streak has always been strong.  
Molly is bringing that colour back out in him.

 

 

Caleb texts Jester that evening, and they organise a lunch meeting at Jester’s favourite café from the Thursday following. He shoots the information to Molly, and they have a short discussion over whether coffee is better with or without flavourings before Molly tells Caleb that they’re heading to sleep, and the back-and-forth ends there.

 

Caleb takes Molly to the meeting in his own car.

 

“Jester chose the location.” He tells them as he leads them into the little café, “If you want to get on her good side, buying her anything sweet will help. She has the tooth for it, and enjoys hot chocolate as well.”

“Noted.” Molly gives Caleb a smile that could melt even the iciest of hearts, and Caleb feels his own lips twitch to smile back.

He can see Jester, already waiting for them on the other side of the café, and he turns to catch Molly’s wrist and pull them gently through the little maze of tables to reach her, eliciting a noise of shock from the surprised tiefling. Molly’s skin is warm against his own, and Caleb’s poor brain runs unrestrained for a split second imagining how wonderful it would be to lace his fingers with Molly’s and feel that warmth so close- how scandalous!

It will pass. It always does, he’d had the same reaction when he met Jester, Beau, Bryce, he knows that he’s starved for contact and affection, it can drive a man wild.

He sits at Jester’s table and pointedly ignores the _look_ she gives him.

“No Nott?” She asks sweetly, and Caleb shakes his head,

“I have you, if anything goes wrong. Nott trusts me to you, and told me to tell you to be careful with me, I am a delicate flower.” and he pulls a face, it makes both Molly and Jester laugh bright and beautiful and Caleb can’t bring himself to be mad about the comparison with such beautiful smiles in front of him.

“Can we get food and drink before we get onto business?” Jester leans across the table, “I am _so-o-o_ hungry!”

“I second that.” Molly raises their eyebrows, to a grin from Jester, and Caleb rolls his eyes,

“Mollymauk, come with me to order the food and drink. Jester, what will you be having today?”  
  
“Pumpkin spice latte! And if they have the brownie with cinnamon, then that! Hold on, I think I have the change…”

“Nonsense, I’ve got this one.” Molly waves a hand, and Caleb frowns at them a little. He’ll argue when they’re out of Jester’s earshot, though.

  
They stand together and head toward the counter, and Caleb catches Molly’s wrist.

  
“You cannot afford to buy things for her.” His voice is low, the tone of a question on his lips and Molly shrugs marginally,

“You said that buying her sweet things is the best thing to get on her good side.”

Caleb sighs. This knight in shining armor, beautiful soul of a terribly generous person is really going to be the end of him.

“I will pay. And you can say it was you. _And-_ ” Molly’s mouth had opened, so Caleb speaks more forcefully over the top of their protests, “You can repay the favour to me when you become a star. Okay?”

Molly lets out a breath.

“Okay.”

  
They go through the motions. Buy the food, order the drinks, Caleb finds Molly bumping his shoulder a couple of times when he stutters and has to catch his breath before it races off ahead of him.  
How this strange, eccentric tiefling has managed such a good grasp on his mental state in the space of two meetings and a scattered handful of text conversations eludes Caleb. But he’s glad of it, of Molly’s almost familiar, comforting warmth at his shoulder, it helps to keep his head from floating off into space and exploding.

  
They collect the plates and cups and carry them back, depositing them expertly, Molly has two plates balanced on either arm and a cup in each hand, Caleb carries one cup, one plate and watches Molly as though they have unlocked the secrets to the universe.

“That is incredible.” he tells them as they all sit back, and Molly laughs,

“Waiter in my free time. And by free, I mean paid, it’s just a part-timer since most of my energy is spent on the hell of retail shops.”

“Aw, Mollymauk.” Jester pouts and pats their arm, and Molly turns with a hint of a grin,

“It’s Molly to my friends, darling.”

“You never mentioned that, Caleb!” Jester looks at him like he’s kicked her fucking puppy, and Caleb rolls his eyes as he blindly withdraws his pen and pad. Molly’s trick from the other day has worked wonders, the previously rumpled page is perfectly straight again, with only shadows of creases to show the damage. Caleb can live with those.

“Now that we have our food and our drink, perhaps we can move onto business?” He suggests, and watches Jester’s demeanour change as she shifts into work mode.

“What first?”

“Mollymauk, do you have any of your concepts? I think I asked you to bring some…”

“You did.” Molly affirms, and reaches into their messenger bag to withdraw a little purple binder with gold swirling drawn-on patterns. There’s a peacock feather glued to the side.

It’s _very_ Mollymauk.

They open it, and the first page is a beautiful mess of colour in wide paint strokes, a shadow of a humanoid figure amongst bright light, Caleb finds himself bemused and amazed.

“I thought you told Caleb that you couldn’t draw?”

“This isn’t drawing.” Molly shifts, “This is a mess.”

“This is beautiful, Mollymauk.” Caleb doesn’t mean for his voice to be as soft and low as it comes out, but that’s what happens, “It’s- it fits your described tone perfectly.”

“I don’t feel like it’s good enough, like it doesn’t fit my music, though.” Molly scratches gently at the peacock feather on their cheek, not hard enough to hurt, it appears just for the sensation. Caleb looks to Jester, for a moment, and then back at Molly’s work.

“Caleb makes a point not to press when it comes to self esteem,” Jester’s voice is unfittingly cheery, “But I don’t! Molly, Molly, Molly, that’s _really pretty_. Not as good as mine, of course, I spend most of my time drawing for the Traveler and _designing_ , so I have a lot of practice-”

“Would you help me? With the art?” Molly’s eyes meet hers in an electric shock, jarring her down her spine, “Would you help make it better?”

“How about we get some food and drink in us and them come back to kicking that out of you, hm?” Jester’s smile is that odd, borderline fake one, and Molly knows better than to drive it over. They sink back into their chair, looking dejected, and sip their tea quietly. Caleb, under the table, texts them.

 

**TO: Mollymauk Tealeaf**

I am sorry about Jester. She means well, and has a heart of gold, but can often be even more insensitive than me.

**TO: Mollymauk Tealeaf**

For the record of it though, I think that your artwork is just the right amount of abstract and meaningful to fit today’s vision of punk rock and indie music.

 

**FROM: Mollymauk Tealeaf**

Caleb have you even heard my music

 

Caleb pauses.  
He hasn’t.

He decides not to respond, just slyly slips his phone back into his pocket and drinks, both hands on his cup and his eyes on the table.

 

When they’ve eaten and there’s no more escape, Caleb’s pen finds its way to his lips and he chews on the end of it whilst Jester and Molly play tennis with ideas for concept art. He lets them go, for a while, abstract shapes and title ideas- _Midas_ , repurposed, is the popular one- and even ideas for music videos, they all come pouring forth and between chewing on the rounded hard plastic tip of his pen, Caleb jots them down.

Then Jester puts both of her hands to her mouth and gasps.

“How could I forget!?” She sounds so scandalised, even Caleb’s eyes come to her, “Outfits! Caleb said you might be going on tour soon, and I _need_ to be your stylist! You’re so pretty, you have such nice facial features, I could make some _fabulous_ dresses for you!”

Molly falls silent again. Caleb squints at them a little.

“I think you’d be great as my stylist.” they tell her, with half of the excitement that they try to include. Jester tries not to let her face fall.

“Then let’s talk about outfits! I like velvet, I think you’d suit velour more, though…” and she trails off into rambles about chiffon versus organza or tulle, and her usual low-down on why calico is the best fabric ever created, ever, fuck you. Caleb watches Molly through it all, notes the way that they wince every time Jester says _dress_ or _skirt_.

They reach a point where Caleb is sure they’re going to cry, and he feels a crashing wave of guilt for letting it get this far.  
So he does the only thing that he can think to do to get them out of there immediately without upsetting Jester.

He fakes an anxiety attack.

Molly looks just as alarmed as Jester as Caleb forces himself into hyperventilation, pulls himself in close, and Molly comes up beside him on one side, Jester on the other, her cool hand on his back and he shrugs it off,

“Caleb?” She says gently, “You want me to take you outside?”

Caleb shakes his head, the stiffness at the edges he knows can be attributed to the attack, and croaks a few fake half-words before he manages,

“Home. Molly.”

Jester leans back a little and sighs, there’s a shooting conversation over his head that he doesn’t hear over his own breathing, and then a warmer hand settles at his waist and Caleb fights not to relax into Molly.

“Come on. This way.”

He uncurls, presses against Molly like his life depends on it, and reasons that this isn’t indulging himself. This is, very logically, his reaction to having an anxiety attack.

“Thanks for today, Jester.” Molly shoots Jester a quick smile, “I’ll get Caleb to send me your number.”

“No problem! Look after him!” There’s a scrape of Jester sitting back down, and then Molly has a hand on his shoulder and an arm around his waist and murmurs soothingly, Caleb presses against them. They guide him out of the café, and Caleb waits until they’re around the corner toward his car before he sets his hand to Molly’s hip, briefly, and draws himself away and upright.

“I don’t make a habit of doing that.” Caleb pulls a face, and Molly stares with wide eyes. The silence goes on a second too long, Caleb adds, “Thank you, though. You- that’s- yes. Thank you.”

“You were faking it to get out of there.” Molly says slowly, and Caleb sighs, nods, turns and gestures for Molly to follow as he heads toward his car,

“ _Ja_. It is my least favourite escape method, and I worry that you may not take me seriously should I have a real attack but- it was the quickest way to get out of that conversation without questions.”

Molly follows, waits until Caleb looks at them before they answer,

“You did that for me?”

“I am your manager.” Caleb offers, “It is my responsibility to ensure that you’re happy and safe. You looked like you were going to cry.”

“I was damn close.” Molly gives a strained laugh, “Caleb- would it be too much to ask for, uh… for a hug?”  
  
Caleb stops stock still. Molly fiddles nervously with their own bracelets,

“It’s a mental thing.” They give as explanation, and that must hit something in Caleb, because he turns and offers his arms willingly. Molly steps into it, into the tight grip and warmth and weight around them, and Caleb feels their arms at the small of his back, pressing hard.

They draw apart, and Molly gives a full-body shudder.

“If and when you would like to talk about _why_ you had that reaction to the conversation, Mollymauk,” Caleb puts his fingertips to Molly’s upper arm, “You know where I am. Though you don’t have to tell me _why_ , at some point, we will need to discuss tour outfits.”

Molly sighs and rubs their face with the back of their hand.

“I know.” They tell him, and Caleb catches their wrist to pull them along to his car, “We will, just-”

“Not today, obviously.” Caleb’s voice is gentle, “We can do it when it is just me and you. If that would make it easier?”

“It would.” Molly gives him a weak smile, and Caleb opens their door for them.

“Good. I’ll do what I can- and Mollymauk, about- about the attack-”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Molly waves a hand, “I understand why you did it. It doesn’t change my opinion of you.”  
  
Caleb leaves his reply whilst he moves around the car to his own door and slips in.

“I appreciate that.”

“I worried about you, you know?” when Caleb looks over in shock, Molly is staring at their own knees, “Like a friend would worry.”

Ah. And here’s the clincher, because Caleb refuses to lie, refuses this one,

“We are friends.”

Molly looks up to meet his eyes, and a grin spreads across their face, bright and wonderful under the mess of mental problems they’ve both been through today.  
Molly will be shot of him as a manager within the month. And maybe that’s a good thing.

At least if Caleb isn’t Molly’s manager, they can be his friend instead.

A real friend.

 

It’s been a while since Caleb had a new one of those.


	3. Serenade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our favourite friends have some bad brain days
> 
> This chapter's song is:  
> [Serenade - The Naked and Famous](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=etaGZN4Qrfk)

**[To:] Caleb Widogast**

I’ll be in first thing tomorrow morning, cross my heart x

**[To:] Caleb Widogast**

Sorry about today. This week. I can be difficult too.

 

**[From:] Caleb Widogast**

You are exactly my kind of challenge, Mollymauk. Don’t fret, I will see you tomorrow.

 

Molly, in their bedroom, laughs a little to themself and then sets their phone down on their desk. They don’t bother to plug it in, just turn and bury their face in their pillow and grumble a muffled thanks at the clattering sound of their phone being plugged in _for them_ , as it is every night.  
Fjord sets a hand gently to the small of Molly’s back.

“What’s he said now to get y’ so…” Fjord makes a noise like a deflating beach ball, a flumpy noise that Molly chuckles at and they turn their head so they can talk,

“Nothing, just- I had to get the pretty one!”

“You think everyone’s pretty.” Fjord rolls his eyes and climbs over Molly into bed, Molly arches into the absence of his hand on their back, so he replaces it.

“That’s because they _are_ , Fjord.” Molly pouts and draws onto their side so they can pull themself into a little ball of purple tantrum, and Fjord rolls his eyes.

“Worry about that in th’ mornin’, I saw y’ alarm’s set for seven.”

“I have to be in at eight.” Molly yawns, and Fjord makes a noise of pity, pats their side before he turns his back to them.

“Best get t’ sleep then. Night, Molly.”

“Night.” Molly turns, too, presses their back to Fjord’s and curls in on themself to sleep.

 

Molly gets up early, throws on one of Fjord’s hoodies over a t-shirt for the damp weather, and hums contentedly when Fjord’s exhausted hands bat their own away and take the strands of their hair to braid. He finishes their hair by twisting and pinning it into a bun, and Molly turns after the last pin, presses their palms to Fjord’s cheeks and tugs him down until they can kiss his forehead.

“You’re a gift.”

“I know, y’ remind me often enough.” Fjord’s voice bounces around his chuckles, and Molly presses in for a hug that Fjord readily reciprocates. He’s used to his roommate’s affection, their personality, their ability to be late to their own funeral. So he smacks their shoulder gently,

“Get goin’, you’ll be late.”

“Thank you.” Molly grins, pats him back and then draws away already heading for the door. They pause only to pull on their boots- black, soft leather, almost knee-height- and wave at Fjord, and then they’re out of the door.

 

Caleb isn’t in when Molly arrives at ten to eight in the morning. Molly reasons that he’s probably dragging himself along the street half-asleep, they know that he has his morning coffee, and that he generally takes it black with one sugar, so they head off to the staff room to get started. They pass by only one person on their way, nod respectfully, and carry on.  
They make coffee for both themself and Caleb, shifting around the kitchen fluidly and turning the radio up a little when the song changes to one that they love.

They hum, at first, and slowly lose themself, singing quietly along with it as they add the water and the sugar and a pump of hazelnut to their own coffee along with the milk. They hadn’t been much of a fan of the flavoured syrups, but Caleb had defended the hazelnut so adamantly that they’re willing to give it a try.

 

Caleb, as usual, only comes to himself halfway up the third set of stairs, yawning his way along the handrail with his now-empty Starbucks cup in hand. Three streets and one set of stairs is all it takes for it to go down him in the morning, he needs it to _function_ for the love of the Gods, and he’s off to the staff room for his second cup of the day.  
He comes up and around the corner to the sound of soft, lilting song, the twang of a faint accent in fluid, wonderful words and he pauses in the doorway to the staff room to watch as Mollymauk shifts around and sings idly along.

Caleb feels as though his breath has been stolen from his lungs, it’s the first time that the carpet has been pulled away and he considers it a _good_ thing. He’s used to the sensation of the drop in an anxiety attack, but- this is nice. This is… incredible.

Molly has a voice to die for, and Caleb thinks he just might, pressing his hand to his chest to try and make his seizing heart restart its drumbeat rhythm. He could stand here forever, listen forever, watch the slow sway of Molly’s hips and shoulders as they pull the milk out and add it to their cup and put it back, and then they turn.

They catch sight of him. And they smile, splitting their face brightly, they raise one of the cups in their hands.

“Hey, Caleb!” They greet, “I made you coffee. Black, one sugar?”

Caleb just sort of… stares. Shock, stunned, eyes wide and heart stuttering,

“I have not heard you sing before.” He says, instead of answering, and Molly chuckles softly as they head toward the sofa. Caleb follows and sits, the same place he always does, takes his coffee from Molly with an inclined head of thanks.

“I knew you hadn’t heard my EP. I _knew_ it.”

Caleb shrugs and pulls an apologetic face,

“I… saw the challenge of you and jumped in. I did not think about what we were marketing, just how.”

“So I’m just… a challenge?” Molly seems to deflate and withdraw and Caleb’s heart aches so hard he thinks it may have stopped again.

“ _Nein_.” Caleb says, and he wants it to be firm, but it comes out gentle. So gentle that he sees tears spring to Molly’s eyes. Caleb leans over and puts his fingertips to Molly’s knee, ever so light and soft,  
“Mollymauk.” Caleb tells them, “You are more than a challenge. I thought that you were, and I enjoy a challenge, it is what keeps me going on the day-to-day but… you are not a challenge.”

Molly blinks their eyes free of tears.  
“Mollymauk, please look at me.”

And they do, they look up from the depths of their cup and reach out toward him almost instinctively, Caleb catches their wrist and holds.

“With a voice like yours, an aesthetic like yours, skill like yours, there is no such thing as a challenge. You are already perfect, you do not need me to turn you to gold when you are already platinum in your own right.” He pauses, feels Molly’s pulse under his palm, “Any, any other manager would be better for you. I am meant to turn the hard cases around. You do not need me.”

Molly frowns a little,

“But- Caleb, I won’t lie to you, you’re not the first manager I met with. There was a few before you but they were all so distant. They didn’t understand the…” They tap their head with their free hand, coffee cup clamped between their knees, “Not like you. You were the perfect manager for me.”

Caleb gives a soft sigh, the tension of the room seems to dissipate a little, and Molly squeezes his wrist before they let go of him.  
They drink in silence for a short while, getting used to one another’s company, but eventually Caleb feels he has to break it.

“We have plenty of time today. Are you up to an outfit conversation?”

Molly’s shoulders draw,

“Not- not yet, no.”

“That- Mollymauk, eyes up- that’s fine. We’ll work up to it, _ja_?”

Molly’s eyes are afraid, but they give him a brief smile anyway.

“Why do you still call me _Mollymauk_ , Caleb?”

That’s… not a question that he expected. He blinks as he thinks about it.

“It is your name. Do you have- is there a preferred name? I don’t have it in my notes-”

“Molly.” They reply, quick and simple, “My friends call me Molly. We’re friends.”

Caleb blinks again, slower this time, processing, absorbing, and he gives a strained, sad smile,

“I- well- I care for you as a friend might but I- I- I don’t… have friends. I don’t deserve them, and I cannot afford to- to let them in.”

Molly’s face pulls inexplicably, they say nothing as they stand and pluck Caleb’s cup from his hands as they pass.  
It’s somewhat annoying, not being able to treat Caleb like they would Fjord, or Yasha, Molly finds themself a very casual contact person. But they can’t come to Caleb and cuddle or kiss or touch, and their words fail them.

Their words always fail them.

They clean out the cups instead, let Caleb stew in his own thoughts whilst the water runs and they come back wiping their hands on their shirt to Caleb staring through them into the infinite.

“Caleb?” They ask, soft as you like, and Caleb jumps a little.

“Sorry.” He replies, and withdraws his notepad, his pen, and begins to talk Molly through the tour. He avoids the styling and the outfits, focuses on Molly’s set list, their backing band, Molly listens and nods and when it comes to security they ask for Beau and Yasha. They see a smile playing at the corners of Caleb’s mouth, and feel their own face twitch into pride; it’s nice, being able to make that happen for Caleb. He seems so sad.

Molly just wants to make him smile.

“So if you have Beauregard and Yasha on security…”

“Yasha can drum.” Molly chips, “If- is that even allowed?”

“You’re travelling with a larger group, so for this- I will talk to Bryce, but _ja_ , it should be fine. Beauregard can work your security whilst she is on-stage.”

There’s a pause, a lapse, and Molly smiles,

“If she can concentrate.”

“ _Ja_ , my thoughts exactly.”

They both chuckle softly at that, they both know of Beau’s disaster tendencies, Caleb finds the situation oddly pleasant, calm, Molly is nice to be around. One of the other employees here, Shakastë, comes in and Molly leans over to pat Caleb’s arm when he stops writing,

“D’you want to maybe go to your office? Just- this is a public space.”

Caleb looks up in shock, Shakastë gives him a dull wave, and he nods at Molly.

“ _Ja_ , that is an excellent idea. Good morning, Shakastë.”

“Mornin’, Caleb.” Shakastë smiles, the distant, somewhat sultry smile he gives everyone, “Have fun.”

“I will.” Caleb returns with as much heat behind it, and Molly chuckles from somewhere behind him as they make their way out of the staff room and toward the elevator.

 

Molly settles into Caleb’s office like they _belong there_ , and Caleb likes that about them. That despite their garish, stand-out appearance, they always seem to belong wherever they stand, they never seem out of place. First, it’s a very marketable attribute, and second, Caleb wishes he had that. He always seems out of place, even in his own home, always too drab or dark for the bright world full of life. He comes over to sit in his own chair, settles comfortably and waits for Molly to do the same.

“Tell me, when you are ready for the conversation we are avoiding.” Caleb opens, and Molly nods,

“I’ll- I’ll try to summon some energy for next week.”

“Don’t push yourself, Mollymauk.” Caleb says gently, “Not too hard, anyway.”

“I can do it, don’t worry.” Molly smiles, and Caleb decides that it’s better not to argue.

“Alright,” he says, and his voice sounds odd to him, “Let’s go back to- to- fuck.”

Something is wrong. Something here is wrong and he doesn’t know what but he knows that something is wrong and it will make everything so bad.

“We were talking about the tour.” Molly reminds him gently in an attempt to pull his mind back to the moment. It works, sort of, though Caleb’s eyes dart around the room still and his shoulders are drawn with tension,

“ _Ja_. We were- so you will be opening, in, in this area, and on all tours within about- about a hundred miles. We should discuss your- your set list, not the same song every night- usually, you will play four or five songs, and then come back. There may be an encore at the end of the show, but that is optional- I would recommend it, though, more exposure.”

His eyes don’t settle for even a second, the feeling of something being horribly, terribly _wrong_ gnaws at the back of his head like beetles, digging in and infecting and Molly nods over their frown,

“I’m working on some- um. Some new material. To fit with different themes. Stuff like _Midas_ , about hope, because… you know, what I’ve done already is pretty dark and sad even if it sounds fun.”

Caleb shifts, he has a reply but it’s lost halfway down his tongue as he spots what’s wrong- a book, out of place on his shelves, it’s one of the ones without the author on the spine so it’s organised in spectrum order. It’s in the purples, and it needs to be closer to cyan, and he jumps to his feet to rush over and correct it.

“Someone has been in my office.” He mutters under his breath, prickling uncomfortably. All the things that could have gone wrong from that. Someone could have been hiding in here, waiting for him to fix it so they can sneak up on him from behind, ready to stab or slash or snap his neck whilst his back was turned, but all that is behind him is Mollymauk.

But they could go for Molly too.  
  
Caleb turns, quick, moves to Molly with startling speed and takes their wrist without thinking or words, two fingers to the inside confirms to Caleb that yes, Molly is okay, Molly is still alive, Molly is watching him with quiet shock when he turns back to sorting the books into place.  
The order is restored, the concern begins to dim, but the worries don’t go away. The paranoia. The looking around the room for a hidden assailant.

“It’s nearly twelve, Caleb.” Molly leans toward him and draws his eye to them, “Why don’t we go and get something to eat?”

They’re not sure what’s going on, but they know the build up to a panic attack when they see it. Caleb squints a little, still worried, and Molly gives him the most reassuring smile they can muster.

“I will bring Nott in to ensure the office is safe whilst we’re out.” He tells Molly, and Molly, completely clueless, just nods at him.

“That’s a good idea. She’ll be okay? You’ll be alright without her?”

Caleb opens his mouth to reply, shuts it, thinks, and slowly opens it again,

“I will have you. Nott will be okay. We will be okay.”

Molly can’t stop themself feeling just a little proud.

“Good.” They say softly, and stand, “Then let’s go. Do you want to be in front, or should I?”

Caleb eyes them, they see him chewing his lip as he does all sorts of mental gymnastics, and eventually settles,

“You. If there is an issue here, I will be the first to fall.”

Molly’s heart twinges in their chest in a way that’s almost painful.

“Okay. Alright. Come on, darling, come on.” Caleb stands too, and Molly catches his wrist and draws them both out of the office, the sound of the closing door behind them bringing relief in the dull thud.

 

Molly chooses where they go for lunch, picks a little café-restaurant a couple of streets away that they’d passed that morning, the inside small but pretty and with only two other patrons. Molly pulls Caleb to a booth toward the back, and guides him into his seat, across from Molly, facing the door.

“Caleb,” They say softly as he picks up the menu, “Have you ever looked into- I don’t know, maybe OCD?”

Caleb flinches a little and pulls a face, chewing the inside of his cheek as he turns this over in his head,

“I- I have seen more therapists that I have hot meals, Mollymauk. If this topic is _never_ brought up again, I will buy lunch?”

“You’re going to need more than that to stop me worrying about you, friend.” Molly laces their own fingers together and leans forward, resting their chin on the backs of their hands, “I’m willing to put in the coin.”

Caleb’s expression changes, minutely, Molly can’t read it and it worries them.

“A free meal, _and_ I will invite you out with myself and Jester this weekend.”

“Do I get a plus one? Only my roommate-”

“You get a plus one as long as this is never mentioned. Deal?”

Molly thinks of Fjord.

“Deal.” they agree, “What’re you having today, then?”

And they fall into idle conversation about Molly’s choices and how they’re going to teach a backup band to play songs that don’t even have a melody yet. Molly promises a weekend of work, Caleb tells them a day of work, that Jester won’t let them go home sober.

“It’s very strange,” Caleb’s voice has a smile to it, “Jester does not drink, so she orders all of her cocktails virgin- most of them taste disgusting but what are you going to do?- and yet somehow she manages to get everyone drunk.”

“I look forward to it.” Molly’s eyes flash, “And to seeing you drunk. It’s a bonding experience, you know? Back in a second, darling, I’m going to order.” And as they stand, they lean over to ruffle Caleb’s hair, and say nothing about the soft whine he makes in the back of his throat at the affectionate contact.

  


Saturday comes all too quickly again, Caleb has yet to tell Molly which club they’re going to because he _doesn’t know_ , but when Nott starts pulling out things for her _bisexual nerd_ makeover, he shoots Molly a text. The name of the bar and the time, that’s all, and receives a smiley face in return.

 

They meet Jester, Molly and Fjord outside the bar. Molly and Jester are smoking together, and Molly must _already_ be a little drunk, or high, or something along those lines because when they see Caleb they smile so wide that he thinks for a moment he might be something good. Someone good. Someone worth that kind of joy.

“Caleb!” Molly chirrups, hands his cigarette to Fjord, carefully, and rushes on over to him.

It’s not the first time Molly’s hugged him, but it’s the first time they’ve instigated it, and for a moment Caleb’s brain flails wildly between _danger_ and _heaven_ , his hands, brain, heart, breath, they all stutter and when they realign, he just about has time to sling one arm around Molly’s shoulders and squeeze before they’re pulling away again.

“Sorry.” They hiss softly before they’re turning and Caleb follows them back to a grinning Jester.

“Hi Nott! _Hi-i_ Caleb.”

“Caleb,” Molly grins and waves at Fjord, “this is my roommate, Fjord.”

Caleb raises his eyebrows. And feels a blush, heat at the tips of his ears and bridge of his nose.

“We- ah. We’ve met.”

“Remember much o’ last week, Caleb?” Fjord gives him an awkward smile, and Caleb returns it just as awkwardly,

“ _Perfectly, ja_.”

“Oh.” Molly puts a hand to their mouth in shock, and Fjord avoids _everyone’s eyes,_ instead choosing to smoke what’s left of Molly’s cigarette. Molly looks from Fjord to Caleb and back.

“ _Oh_.” They say again, “Fjord! Was Caleb the one-”   
  
“ _Yes!_ ” Caleb barks to cut them off, “ _ery_ nice! We are all connected! Let’s go in and get drunk!”

He’s away before Molly can protest or answer, and trails his ragtag band of chaotic friends behind him.

 

Molly is a wonderful sight. They’re dressed similarly to Caleb, with the plaid overshirt, the plain undershirt, though Molly’s has a deep v-neck that ends somewhere by their sternum. This, coupled with their elaborately done hair, up in a rose braid, leaves Caleb’s eyes to trail them as they move across the bar and the dance floor, earning themself a free drink from everyone they bat their eyelashes at.  
It isn’t hard. Caleb knows that his analysis was right- Molly is naturally very attractive, and they highlight themself with glitter and eyeliner and all of the things somehow making them more stunning than Caleb ever thought they could be.

But it’s fine.

Caleb doesn’t have to think on what to do with these new sparks of feelings unknown, he doesn’t have to consider repercussions, because nothing is happening, nothing can happen.

He heads to the bar and orders himself a quad schnapps and lemonade.

He’s promptly told that they cannot _legally_ serve him a quad. The highest they can serve him is a double, and Caleb, without even having to think, orders himself a double, and two shots. And see, there’s no real reason not to serve him that, so he’s given his schnapps and lemonade, he’s given his shot glasses, and he stares his bartender down as he tips both shots into the bigger glass, slides the empty shot glasses across the bar, and heads back to the table he’s sharing with- well. Just Nott, right now, with Molly off flirting, and Jester off with Fjord on the dancefloor.

“Are you okay?” Nott asks, she has to shout over the music but that’s okay, that’s fine, Caleb just forces a smile and nods at her. She doesn’t believe him, he can see it in her eyes, but she doesn’t push tonight, lets him go.

 

 

Caleb gets drunk enough to risk himself, he thinks. Two or three drinks in, a lot of alcohol in that, he shifts from the table when Jester comes back, and slips away.   
  
He comes up behind Molly as they lean across the bar, eyes half-lidded and a purr in their throat as they talk to some- some stranger. And Caleb feels, something, something in his chest, between his spine and sternum, burning sickly and bright and pulling tears to his eyes when he swallows to try and cool it down. It fuels him in a way he finds terrifying, pulls his strings like a puppet and he loses his grip on his own controls, hands greased by the alcohol and pulled away by this horrid flame-bright feeling lighting the insides of his mind in acrid green.

He sets one hand to Molly’s hip and something _flares_ , making the Caleb inside of Caleb gasp at the sudden sensation and then he’s leaning in, his chest presses to Molly’s back, he’s close enough to speak into Molly’s ear,

“Would you come outside with me?”

He doesn’t know what he’s asking, why he’s asking, all he really knows is that Molly is here and that stranger down the bar was eyeing them like their next meal and Caleb didn’t like it. He came out here with something, he did need something from Molly but it’s lost to rattle around the empty green space of Caleb’s head with his personality.

Molly turns into him and Caleb barely backs up, he feels the slip of Molly’s overshirt under his palm before warmth as he settles on their other hip instead.  
They’re… frowning. Caleb, inside himself, feels a bolt of terror that Molly is angry, that he’s overstepped- well, he’s definitely overstepped, there’s no doubt but- Molly’s hands settle at his shoulders and inside, Caleb is a match over gasoline, waiting.

Molly’s hands smooth down Caleb’s arms and they gently lift the grip he has on their hip. The stranger at the bar is abandoned, and Molly laces their fingers with Caleb’s as they draw him through the crowd, away from the bar, past the table and to the fresh cold air of the night outside.

And when they slip their hand out of his grip, Caleb chokes off a drunken sob.  
  
Times like this, he thinks, he _really_ misses Astrid and Wulf. He hasn’t seen them in so long. He wonders, on occasion, what horrible things Trent will have done to them after they helped him leave but- but he can never go back.

His fire goes out, he’s catapulted back into his own body, and he barely has time to choke out Molly’s name before the panic slams into him with the force of a bolting horse and bolt he does, taking off into the dark.

 

 

Caleb has always lost time when he panics like this. When all he thinks is that he needs to get away now or he never will, when he knows that he has something to do but he needs to- out- no more, trapping and mute and a puppet and then he trips and physically rolls down the street, glad of his glasses flying from his face before they can be crushed, because his face is pressed into gravel and something cracks and he lands. And he takes a breath with his cheek to the floor, and then he’s up and running again, vaguely aware of two or three other people around him but they’re dangerous and he can’t stop.

He finds the safest possible space, wedged between two industrial sized dustbins, and curls into a ball there to lose himself.

 

 

Caleb’s glasses. The back of his phone. The battery. The screen. His wallet, part of the chain there snapped and a few coins spilling out.

Molly collects all of these things carefully and tucks them into the crook of their arm, following the scuffed trail and then the droplets of blood every few feet, presumably from a busted lip or broken nose with the amount of force his face had hit the floor with. Molly had been a distance behind, and Caleb under a street lamp, they follow after him carefully.

They find him between the bins and kneel, tugging their bag over their head- Caleb had barely noticed it- they set it down and put Caleb’s belongings carefully beside.

“Caleb, sweetheart, I’m here.”

In the still silence around them, Molly’s voice is loud, but they try deliberately to keep it soft, quiet, gentle, Caleb is wrapped in on himself.

“I’m going to let Nott know that I’m with you.”

And they withdraw their own phone from their bag and text Fjord, because they don’t have Nott’s number.

 

**[To:] Fjord**

I thikn caleb has a panic attac s o im going to staya with him for a whixle   


**[To:] Fjord**

Cn you tell nott?? I dont ahve her number x

 

They hope that Fjord can read their shaking hands, and tuck their phone away.

Caleb’s breath is ragged, and Molly is too drunk to summon up any kind of comfort for him, so they work instead on putting Caleb’s phone back together, putting the battery in and clicking the back on. It’s Caleb’s _friend phone_ , not his work phone, thank the Gods, there’s a few cracks across the screen but it seems to be some kind of tempered glass protector, the actual screen seems unharmed. Similarly, one of Caleb’s lenses in his glasses is scratched and scuffed, but otherwise, relatively okay.

Molly sets the things aside.

“You can take what you need from me, right now, Caleb.” Molly offers quietly, “You don’t need to ask.”

Caleb lifts his face from his arms, just a little, and finds Molly… not looking at him. Just leaning against a bin and staring up at the sky like they can see the stars hiding behind the light pollution.

Caleb edges forward, just ever so marginally toward them, and finds Molly’s arm lifting. Not expectant, not demanding, just inviting. They’re drunk, by the haze of red-violet on their cheeks and the way they sway even in place. But Caleb is drunk, too, and barely thinks twice about shuffling in and relaxing as best he can against Molly’s side.

Molly is fully aware of the blood slowly seeping into their shirt, but it’s nothing that can’t be replaced.

“Show me how tight.” They command him, tone gentle, and Caleb pulls his arms around them as firm as he possibly can. He’s rewarded with Molly mimicking, and when they get annoyed at the angle, pulling Caleb until he’s sat in their lap.

Time passes differently between those two bins, in the pale streetlamp light. Caleb finds his breath coming easier to him despite the split lip, despite the constant pressure around his ribs. This one isn’t his lungs seizing, isn’t his chest trying to crush the life out of him, it’s warm and safe and smells vaguely of lavender candles and weed. Caleb could fall asleep, here. His regrets will come to him in the morning, he’s sure, but this, now, this is good. This is safe.

“I still haven’t heard your EP.” Caleb blurts before he can stop himself, the thought not pausing in his brain and escaping straight from his tongue and Molly chuckles a little.

“There’s a copy in my bag. I carry a few with me wherever I go, call me conceited.”

“Can I have one?” Caleb asks, hazing in and out of consciousness, and Molly pats him until he sits up so that they can lean over and pull a CD case from their bag. They hand it to him, and Caleb frowns at the blood on Molly’s shirt.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Molly smiles at him gently, one arm still around his waist, they turn back to their bag and withdraw their phone, mumbling about getting Fjord and Nott to come and collect them, and Caleb finds himself distracted by Molly’s ears.

He’s never paid much mind before, but under the curls of their horns, with their hair drawn back this way, he can see the pointed tips and finds himself _overwhelmed_ by the desire to…

To…

Put it in his mouth. Just to hold the little point there, see what it feels like the weight and texture. It’s not a new impulse, he has it about a lot of things, and putting them in his mouth soothes him. This one, he definitely cannot put in his mouth. This alone, the comfort cuddles, this is too much and too far.

“They’re on their way. Come on, up we go.”

And then he’s standing, Molly is putting his glasses back on his face and brushing the stray strands of hair out of his eyes, pressing his phone and wallet into his hands, and turning to Fjord and Nott as they appear from down the street.

“Caleb!” Nott’s shrill voice cuts through him in a wonderful, pleasant way. He’s missed her in this short time, and crouches into her hug.  
  
“Your lip…” Nott frowns as she withdraws, one hand on each of his cheeks to hold him still whilst she inspects him, and Caleb can’t help himself from a little smile. She lets him up, and they head back, to say goodbye to Jester, and to order themselves taxis to go home.

  


It takes time for the night to come back to Caleb when he opens his eyes the following morning.  
He remembers being violently sick when he came in, first. He remembers the panic attack next, Molly’s arms around him and the pointed tips of their ears. Their EP is set on his desk to the side, but the idea of moving makes him feel sick, so he just closes his eyes and wills himself back to sleep.

 

Like most hangovers, it only disappears after a glass of water, some painkillers, and another six hours of sleep. It’s past one in the afternoon when he drags himself out of bed to go and thank Nott for the water and painkillers, and finds a still-warm takeaway pizza on the side.

“Just cheese.” Nott tells him gently as he lifts the lid to peek, and he gives a gentle sigh of relief as he withdraws a slice from the box. He makes himself a cup of tea as he eats his way through the first slice, and plates up another two before he heads over to join Nott on the sofa.

She’s watching the shopping channel, something about gemstones, she’ll never buy but she likes the shinies and Caleb thinks it’s adorable.

“When are you going to listen to their EP, then?” Nott asks, shocking Caleb from his little food reverie, “You wouldn’t let go of it last night.”

Caleb gives an awkward chuckle.

“I’ll listen after I’ve eaten.”

“Text them, too. They were worried.” Nott points a chicken nugget at him menacingly, and Caleb chuckles again, too busy putting pizza in his mouth to reply.

 

**TO: Mollymauk Tealeaf**

Nott said that you were worried and that I should let you know I’m alright.

 

 **FROM:** **Mollymauk Tealeaf**

Tell her that I appreciate it, I was very worried x

**FROM: Mollymauk Tealeaf**

Glad you’re okay.

 

Caleb sets his phone down, picks up his laptop, and puts Molly’s EP into the disk drive.

He waits before he plays it, takes himself some deep breaths and relaxes and only when he’s empty does he click play.

 

It’s under twenty minutes, beginning to end. It’s enough to fill a lifetime.

 

Molly’s voice is sweet and angelic and lilting in a sustaining way, their melodies are gentle, complimenting their voice rather than contesting it, or drowning it out. But it’s the content and the ache that hits Caleb.

Molly’s songs are about loneliness.

The story spins itself in paranoia and fear, emptiness, and the all-consuming terror that they might be the only one left. About emptiness, losing themself and trying desperately to find themself from the ashes of what they know. And then running from a past that they barely remember, trying to scrabble together a personality in the things they find, all whilst feeling isolated.

He starts crying at some point and doesn’t realise until he pulls his headphones off and feels the damp on his cheeks.   
He makes a resolution to himself. Tomorrow, when he sees Molly, he decides, without being sure of what he’s promising himself.

When he sees Molly.

 

 

Caleb is awake at Starbucks. He orders two coffees, one for himself, one for Molly.   
Caleb is awake coming up the stairs.  
Caleb is awake coming into the staff room to find Molly, smiling as they always do and swaying around as they put coffee together. 

Caleb damn near slams the Starbucks on the side, and all the warning that Molly gets is Caleb gasping their name in a rush of air, and he steps up to them and pulls them into a hug so tight it could crush ribs.

“Mollymauk.” Caleb repeats, in a murmur against their shoulder, and Molly stays briefly stock still, arms to the side and waiting.

Caleb exhales against them.

They wrap their arms around his back, settle their face against his neck, and breathe themself calm on the scent of books and leather that their manager brings with him everywhere he goes.

 

This is good.

This is safe.

It feels like home.


	4. Ship To Wreck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter's Song Is:  
> [Ship To Wreck - Florence + The Machine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u6VuGNJUYLc)
> 
> A month has passed, and it's finally time for Molly to move on to new managers and greater heights.

**FROM: Bryce  
** I’ve signed off on the tour, first show is in Hupperdook on the 14th, Mollymauk at 7pm. Leaving on the 11th, they will be staying on the bus.

 **FROM: Bryce  
** I’m having The Meeting with them later this week. Sorry, Caleb, my hands are tied; Kosh is demanding that I do it now so that they have time to settle. I know you liked this one.

 

 **TO: Bryce  
** You know that I do not blame you for it, thank you for fighting my corner. I know that I am a chore.

 

 **FROM: Bryce  
** You don’t need to put yourself down you know. I happen to think you’re pretty great.

 

 **TO: Bryce  
** What day are you having the meeting?

 

 **FROM: Bryce  
** Thursday.

 

 **TO: Bryce  
** Thank you for the warning.

 

Caleb puts his phone away and turns over in bed, sighing softly.

Two weeks to go, he supposes it makes sense. He’s been working with Molly for just under a month and a half, they’ve gotten into a nice, comfortable routine, even managed to pull them into the studio for a few recordings of new songs. Caleb has a career plan drawn up for them, far past the tour, and he’s often found himself waking up on his desk with Molly carefully thumbing through one of his books, always replacing it in exactly the same place.

He hasn’t been sleeping well at night, though. He’s haunted by the pointed tips of Molly’s ears, by his _desire_ to just. Put that in his mouth.  
He keeps hoping it will go away.

It does not.

But tonight, Caleb’s brain has more important things to worry about than cute, delicate pointed tips.  
Losing Mollymauk.

 _The Meeting_ , as he and Bryce have coined it, is nearly always prompted by the clients that Caleb is seeing to. Usually earlier than this. But the higher-ups don’t want Caleb on a tour when he’s never gotten that far, so they’re making a push for it now, replacing Caleb with a new manager for Molly, one better than he is, better at being a person. Less annoying, easier to deal with, more professional. One that doesn’t want to gently hold the tips of their clients’ ear between their lips.

It’s an odd fixation, but damn if he doesn’t have it now.

Caleb curls up into a ball and pulls his blankets around him good and tight, swallowing down what could be sobs. It’ll be fine. He can still talk to Molly, if Molly wants anything to do with him. Not that they will.  
Caleb isn’t worth anything, especially as a friend.  
He’s useful, sure, but he’s not a good person.

He remembers, for a brief moment, the drug-induced smile of Mollymauk the night they’d gone out drinking, when they’d seen him arrive. He remembers their smile every time he comes into the staff room.  
And he’s flooded with relief, that Molly won’t have to force all of that anymore, that they won’t have to pretend to like him, it will give them so much more emotional energy. They might even be able to discuss tour outfits, with the energy they’ll save.

Jester has been making things, completely without guidance. She has a handful of dresses, some skirts, a few suits, things she’s told Caleb and kept from Molly with the way they clam up every time it’s mentioned.

Caleb forces thought from his mind. Sleep. Sleep is what he needs.

 

It doesn’t come easily, and he stumbles into work the next morning half-dead.  
Molly has made him coffee. They smile at him when he enters.  
Caleb burns with guilt.

It will be easier, he reasons, if he distances himself now. So he makes his way to the coffee pot, past Molly, and begins to pour his own cup.

“I- Caleb? I made you…” Molly lifts the cup in their left hand, the one that is always Caleb’s, and Caleb stays silent a few more, painful seconds,  
  
“Give it to Nott. I will make my own.”  
  
Molly looks around them. Occasionally, Nott will follow Caleb into the staff room of a morning, instead of shuffling off to see Bryce or Yasha or Beau. This is not one of those mornings.  
Caleb pulls a flask from his bag and sets it on the side.  
  
“It will stay warm in there until she comes back.”

His hand twitches toward the fridge for the milk, but he decides against it. Milk is for comfort and warmth and he doesn’t want, doesn’t _deserve_ that today. He’s cruel, and heartless, the way he was raised to be, everything he swore he was going to change getting into this job.  
Molly finishes pouring the coffee into the flask and rinses it off, puts it gently back on the side and edges up to Caleb.

“Coming in.” They warn, voice soft before they set a hand to Caleb’s back and he freezes, unsure of what to do.

It’s true that Molly has helped Caleb’s touch starvation a _lot_ over the past month. They’re sweet, constantly touching and stroking and warning and if there’s a time he doesn’t feel like it, he knows he can tell them. As of yet, there hasn’t been a time that he hasn’t felt like it.

“Not today, Mollymauk.” He tells them with the rough edge to his voice and they draw away immediately, Caleb bites the inside of his lip and screws his eyes shut against the threat of tears. One deep breath. A second.

“To my office, we should discuss new music, your set list, and Jester has sent me sketches for album covers that will be down there by now.”

He doesn’t wait for a reply, just picks up his cup and starts to walk, hoping that Molly will follow. And, obediently, they do.

 

They sit down in Caleb’s office and he takes a swig of his coffee before pulling up to his desk, gesturing to Molly to do the same. They tuck in, quiet and withdrawn, with a sense of sadness on their face that Caleb has never seen in them and it aches. It aches in him, watching Molly be sad, it aches knowing that it’s his fault but it’s okay. It has to be, this is how it needs to go, this is the best way.

There’s Jester’s file on his desk, all of her new sketches he spreads across his desk and they go back and forth, calm and professional and every time Molly’s eyes come up from the table, Caleb meets their gaze with something cold and impersonal behind his eyes, only letting the ache show when their eyes drop back to the sketches.

 

“It’s been good working with you.” Caleb holds out a hand to Molly at the door, the winter evening obvious in the declining light at five in the evening. They’re out until Thursday, now. It’s fine, it doesn’t matter how much Caleb is aching to pull Molly in, to draw his arms around their shoulders and breathe their soothing scent of lavender candles and weed, he can’t do that. It’s not acceptable.

Molly doesn’t shake.

“See you Thursday.” They say, soft, and walk off into the rain. Caleb watches it plaster their loose hair to their face and back, their white shirt turned translucent and they shiver away from him into the dark.

Caleb presses the heels of his hands to his eyes and cries.

 

 

“Molly, Gods damn, you’re fucking soaked.” Fjord’s head lifts the moment Molly comes in the door, “Why didn’t y’ call me? Or get a taxi? Or ask Caleb?”

He’s on his feet and collecting the towel they keep for this sort of situation, and when he comes over to Molly, he finds them sniffling. It’s hard to tell, under the rain, but he thinks they might be crying.

“Molly?” Fjord’s voice is softer, now, he wraps the towel around their shoulders, “What’s wrong?”

Molly just shakes their head and begins to strip, pulling out from Fjord’s sight. There’s the wet slap of their drenched clothing hitting the kitchen tile, and then they come back past Fjord and into the bedroom.  
Fjord retrieves the hairdryer and follows.

Molly is sat at the top by their phone, cold and still and damp on the desk, their face in their hands and sobbing. Fjord plugs the hairdryer in and gets to work, strands at a time, working through until the dripping lightens to damp, patient and silent as Molly cries into their palms, unrestrained and wordless. It’s fine.  
The hairdryer goes off, Fjord unplugs it and goes to put it away, comes back to Molly wiping their makeup off of their face, streaked down their cheeks and dressed, now, in one of Fjord’s own pyjama shirts and a pair of shorts.

“C’mon.” Fjord sighs, gentle as he climbs onto the bed beside them. The apartment is locked up, the lights are off, Fjord cleans his friend up and lies down, lets them bury their face in his shoulder and shudder because they’ve no tears left.

“Wanna tell me what it is?” Fjord strokes their back, rhythm constant and grounding. It isn’t the first time that they’ve had an episode like this, but it’s been a while.

“I don’t know what I’ve done wrong.” Molly’s voice is high and muffled, “I don’t know what I did, but Caleb _hates me_. I can’t even fix it, because he only looks at me to give me a glare. He won’t let me touch him, every time i try to change the topic to anything personal he cuts me off about projected profits.”

There’s a pause. Fjord tries to collect a response, but Molly gets in first,

“He looks at me like I’m the worst thing that ever happened to him.” They tell Fjord, “Like he despises me. And I don’t know _why._ ”

“He might be havin’ a rough time. Somethin’ goin’ on upstairs. Don’t hold it against him, treat him like y’ usually do, an’ when he goes back t’ normal y’ call him on it and get him t’ explain, ‘cause this ain’t cool but y’ don’t wanna lose that one.”

Molly takes a breath, and this one shudders far less than the last one.

“Yeah.” They agree, “Are you working tomorrow?”  
  
“Home all day.” Fjord says, with an audible smile. Molly smiles, too.

“Ice cream and pyjama day, then?”

“Sounds good t’ me. G’night, Molls.”

“Don’t.” Molly laughs against his shoulder, “Goodnight.”  
  
They receive an affectionate squish in return, and then limp, as they both relax and help themselves off to sleep.

 

Wednesday passes with radio silence from Mollymauk.

Caleb finds himself uneasy, listening to Molly’s EP on repeat and pretending it isn’t a mistake, as every word, every note of their voice reminds him more acutely what he’s losing. Not a challenge. Not a project. A friend.

Someone that he cares about.

 _A friend_.

Caleb doesn’t know when he started considering Molly one of those, but he knows a few things.

When he’s sad, or panicking, or sick from anxiety or alcohol or any combination or variant, his mind calls out for Molly. He feels alone and aches and his mind calls out for Molly to come to him, to touch him, a hand on his arm or to cuddle him in safe like they had the night they’d gone drinking.

And he knows that this is going to hurt.

Like ripping off a band-aid and taking a layer of skin with it, it’s going to sting and smart but it’ll be better. Better for him, better for Molly, they don’t need to babysit his pathetic self any more.

Nott tries to get him to eat but the idea of food makes him feel sick, his stomach turns over and tears itself to ribbons, the cogs of his mind turn three different ways and eat themselves apart, he counts down the hours until five in the evening, when it’s acceptable to drink and not considered a problem.  
Nott watches him in concern, but she’s past being his service Nott now. Molly is more effective than she is for that, they’re warmer and better but she still loves him, he still loves her and when he cries, she comes up to him and lets him pull her in like a teddy bear, she’s so small.

 

 

And then Thursday comes. And Caleb is awake, he hasn’t slept at all that night, too busy listening to Molly’s EP and tearing his hair out and trying valiantly not to cry. He’s done so many spreadsheets, his sick of seeing Excel’s little icon, sick of little boxes. He never thought he could be sick of boxes.  
He skips his Starbucks on Thursday morning, and instead heads straight into work.  
The skies above him grey and barely light, he holds his umbrella in his loose hand but the clouds refuse to rain on him, no matter how hard he wishes they would.

As he’s coming into the building, his work phone vibrates hard against his leg. A text.  


**FROM: Bryce** **  
** Meeting is at 10:30. They’re not in until 10. I’ll try to keep you apart.

 **FROM: Bryce  
** Caleb, you know that I love you?  


Caleb allows himself a smile at that. It’s something that Bryce has been telling him regularly for nearing a year now, and he still doesn’t believe it, but he believes in the sentiment. They have always been good to him, he knows that they care, even if it is like oil on water and easily skimmed. He knows it on the surface, it’s a matter of waiting for it to permeate.

 

 **TO: Bryce  
** I know you do. Thank you.

 

He gets in the elevator this morning, up to the fifth floor.  
He rounds the corner, and the staff room is quiet.  
For the first time since taking Molly as his client, he’s here and it’s empty, there is no gently swaying Mollymauk to greet him with two cups of coffee and a smile as radiant as the dawning sun, crinkling their eyes at the edges.

There is no soft, lightly accented lilt drifting through the door.

The staff room looks cold and lonely when there’s no Mollymauk to fill the space with their joy and laughter.

Caleb makes himself a coffee and sits on the sofa, staring into nothing, and sadly sipping it as it cools far past the point of lukewarm, and further into the ice that he’s been treating Molly with instead.

 

Molly rolls up to work.

They have a meeting with _Bryce_ , that means it’s serious. Something about the tour, perhaps?  
They haven’t texted Caleb, though Fjord keeps telling them to. He’ll contact them when he’s ready, and they will just go about their business until then.  
Bryce bumps into them in the elevator.

“Oh.” They say, shocked, “Mollymauk.”

“Bryce.” Molly inclines their head with a grin, and the expression returned on Bryce’s face certainly doesn’t fill them with confidence or joy. They’re usually direct, good with eye contact, textbook professional but it seems today that their neutral expression can’t be pulled from their frown, their eyes slip and skitter away from the contact that Molly tries to make.  
  
“Since you’re in, would you like to have that meeting now? Save you wandering around.”  
  
“I could do with a coffee first, if you don’t mind?” Molly’s head cocks marginally, and Bryce laughs a little, a few soft breaths, Molly can see them texting out of the corner of their eye but says nothing.

“A coffee sounds like a good idea.” Bryce agrees after a few silent moments, “Staff room first, my office second.”

 **  
**TO: Caleb  
Molly and I on our way to the staff room. Scram.

 **FROM: Caleb  
** In my office, but thank you.  


Bryce tucks their phone away, and the two of them leave the elevator to go and get coffee.  
They end up with warm mugs in Bryce’s office, steaming gently into the air. Molly likes Bryce’s office, it’s calm and packed full of little things to remember people by.  
Molly knows that feeling. If they had people other than Fjord, or Yasha to remember, they’d be much the same.  
Caleb has recently been added to the list of people. All that this consists of, as of right now, is a scarf that Caleb had given Molly on a day both of them had been suffering from some kind of sensory overload.

 _‘Scarves are useful,’_ Caleb’s voice echoes even now, in Molly’s head, _‘With the right preparation, they can help isolate all five senses._

 _Preparation_ , Molly discovered, is just a case of spraying it with cologne or deodorant so that the smell is all there is if you put your face in it.  
It still smells vaguely of Caleb’s cologne. Molly’s only complaint is that it doesn’t smell like _Caleb_ , like the leather and books scent he trails with him everywhere.

“Mollymauk.” Bryce snaps their fingers in front of Molly’s face, “Focus, please.”

It’s ten forty-five, and Molly misses Caleb.

“Sorry.” Molly grins, leans on the desk, “You were saying?”

“About your tour. You’ll be leaving on the eleventh, and staying on the main tour bus with the Vaudreys until they move out of your range, then they’ll be switching opening acts to Shakastë, since he’s closer to Shady Creek for the time being.”

Molly remembers the one interaction they’ve had with Shakastë, and nods their approval.

“Right.”

“Your manager generally follows behind you and stays in a hotel, which we can set you up in too, if you have trouble with the bus.”

“What about where there is no hotel?” Molly frowns, “I assume there’ll be days we stop on the road, or… keep going, I guess.”

“Yes, there are a few tight calls that we’re pulling the night drivers in for. There’s a second, usually, for days like that, so the managers can sleep in their car and have their second follow the bus.”

Molly can feel a creeping sense of unease.  
It is eleven in the morning, and Molly remembers, quite suddenly, that he was supposed to meet Caleb for lunch today.

 

Caleb, on the other hand, is in his office with a half cup of cold coffee, trying to drink it and finding himself too nervous to keep food or drink down. Pacing in circles, picking up books and carefully replacing them, twisting his hands together, chewing his lip.  
He’ll get assigned a new client after Molly. They only keep him off interviews for a week or so, time to recover, but Caleb doesn’t _want_ some new project whilst someone else takes Mollymauk off away from him. He can multitask. He can be good. He doesn’t deserve Molly, as a friend, as a client, at all. He doesn’t deserve any of it.  


**FROM: Mollymauk Tealeaf  
** I’ll be a bit late to lunch, darling, I’m in a meeting with Bryce x

 **FROM: Mollymauk Tealeaf  
** Texting you from under the table, actually.  


**FROM:** **Bryce  
** Tell them to stop texting, or I swear that I will fire them on the spot.  


**TO: Mollymauk Tealeaf  
** Focus on your meeting, Mollymauk

  
Bryce’s teasing falls flat over Caleb sighing, he pushes his face into his palms. He knows The Meeting, all of his clients get it, it’s the _it’s time to change your manager_ meeting. The one that they all come out of with relief in their shoulders and faces, unable to look Caleb in the eye for the week overlap of phasing him out, phasing the new manager in.  
Molly, he thinks, has been his favourite client so far. He’s not meant to have favourites, but Molly has been far, far more than a client. They’ve been a friend, a comfort, too; someone that Caleb has felt relaxed around in a way he hasn’t before.

 

All good things must come to an end, of course.

It’s just a shame that this ending has come so soon.

 

 **[From:] Caleb Widogast  
** Focus on your meeting, Mollymauk

 

Still with the cold shoulder?  
It’ll be fine. Molly’s taking Fjord’s advice. They tuck their phone away, and over the top of the table, they see Bryce smiling a little as they do the same.

“Is there anything else?” Molly asks, calm and polite, and Bryce’s little smile dies away. _Oh dear._  
  
“Yes, ah- It’s time for- It… Okay. It isn’t my choice, it isn’t me pushing, I need you to know this?”  
  
“Bryce, this is _very_ worrying, can you get to the point?” Molly frowns to match Bryce’s expression.

“Caleb has never gotten to the first tour. His clients can’t usually stand to have him with them nearly twenty-four hours a day, they can barely stand having him… normal times. So by now, they’ve usually replaced him.”

Molly gets a dawning sense of the direction this is going. Bryce avoids looking at them,

“He has no experience and he’s already done what we pay him to. So the higher-ups are looking to change out your manager, ideally today, so you have a couple of weeks to get used to them.”

 

 

Caleb, three floors below, slams his hands on his desk, shocking Nott awake.

“Caleb?” She murmurs as she sits up, and he comes around to her and kisses the top of her head,

“I am sorry, _Liebling_ , I did not mean to wake you. I’m going for a coffee, do you want anything?”  
  
“Just call me if you need me, okay?” Nott leans up and kisses the first place she can reach- Caleb’s ear- and then collapses back down. She’s asleep almost instantly, and Caleb, as quietly as he can, storms out and up the stairs to the staff room.  
He takes the stairs.

 

 

“No!” Molly is standing, and they swear they didn’t _mean_ to make such a loud bang slamming their palms to Bryce’s desk, but that’s what they did. It shook the room, it shook Molly, it shook _Bryce_.

They look up at Molly with some kind of mixed shock and… something else. Something Molly is too angry to place.

“Mollymauk, calm down-”

“No!” Molly barks again, “No, you’re not _taking him_ from me. You can’t _take_ Caleb- he’s- nobody else would understand like he does, you hear me? You can tell _them fuckers_ ,” they punctuate by pointing Bryce’s ceiling, “You can _tell them_ , if they try, if they _try_ to fucking take Caleb, I’ll- I’ll quit.”

“Mollymauk, you have a contract. You can’t just quit.”

“I’ll take whatever _fucking_ lawsuit you give me, I don’t care. I don’t care! I don’t care if you turn me homeless and ruin my career _forever_ , it’s Caleb or I walk.”

There’s a definite smile on Bryce’s face, to match the fury on Molly’s. In fact, now that Molly has stopped shouting, shoulders heaving with the need to catch their breath, Molly can see Bryce _grinning_ , beaming at them like they haven’t just threatened them, the company, and shook their whole office with their volume.

“You,” Bryce says, and Molly swears they’re laughing a little, “Are the best decision that I have ever made.”

They stand, and hold a hand out to Molly, it waits and hangs heavy in the air, Molly just stares.

“I’ll make it happen.” Bryce promises over the offer, “I’ll _make_ it happen. I promise.”

Molly, tentatively, reaches out and shakes.

“Try the staff room.” Bryce tells them with a little smile, they sit down and wave, “Good luck, Mollymauk.”

Molly backs out of the room wordlessly, staring at Bryce until they physically can’t any more. And when the door closes on the blond hair, they turn and bolt for the stairs to the staff room.

 

 

Caleb’s hands shake so much that he spills both the milk and the water and wipes it up with a tea towel. The tea is a touch milky for his tastes, but it’ll do, he sets it on the table and begins to walk circles. Pacing, back and forth.  
He itches. His skin crawls with the mistakes he’s made and the things he’s done and the people he’s hurt. 

“Caleb?”  
  
Molly’s voice.

He turns to the door and they’re there and he freezes because _Bryce said they were going to keep them away_. They were never meant to see him again but he’s here, in the staff room, in a public space. Like he wanted this.

“ _Caleb_.” Molly repeats, takes a tentative step into the room and there’s tears in their eyes and Caleb _can’t_ but he _needs to_.

“The meeting.” They say softly, and when Caleb flinches, “You _knew_.”

“It’s- it’s always the same. Al- always.” Caleb hates how much his voice breaks, “It’s okay.”

Molly takes another step toward him. Caleb still hasn’t moved.

“Did you want me to change? Did you ask for it? Bryce- they said they didn’t want- Caleb, did you not want to be my manager any more?”

Caleb’s mouth opens and snaps shut again. _How_ could Molly ever think that?

“I told them that I would quit if I didn’t have you. I told them I’d walk. Did- have I _forced_ you into this?” Molly’s voice drops to a whisper, “I’m sorry.”

Caleb moves.  
He crosses the distance in three strides, wide ones, comes up quick and pulls Molly into a hug, a tight, crushing thing that pulls all the air from Molly’s lungs.

Caleb feels them break into tears against him and squishes harder, feels Molly’s arms pull up around him too and pulls them, gently, back toward the sofa where they collapse. There’s clacking of jaws and muffled exclamations of pain as bone strikes bone but they settle silent and calm.

They pull apart and Molly swipes the back of their hand across their eyes, still hiccuping softly with the echo of their sobs, and Caleb keeps one arm looped with theirs as he sits and shuffles in closer.  


There are no words exchanged. There are no words that could communicate this the way it deserves.  


Caleb rests his head on Molly’s shoulder and closes his eyes to sleep.


	5. Take My Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is:  
> [Take My Hand - The Cab](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E-mMtg-Zp4Q)
> 
> Molly's outfits arrive, and Caleb gets to the bottom of it.

Finding two of their employees asleep on the sofa in the staff room should _probably_ annoy Bryce, but they just can’t find it within them to be mad at anyone that cares about Caleb.   
He never seems to believe that he’s not alone, and judging by the way Caleb is asleep on Molly’s shoulder, by the way way Molly’s cheek rests on the top of Caleb’s head, the new tiefling is doing a pretty good job of getting through to him.

Sadly, though, it’s getting to the end of the day, and if Nott’s texts were anything to go by, they’ve been here a few hours. And Bryce needs to pass on a message.

Nott had text them during the meeting, they’ve gotten good at co-ordinating Caleb’s movements to ease him around the things that would set him off. Bryce warns her whenever there’s a problem song on the radio station they’re listening to, they warn her when someone he should avoid is in the building, and on what floor. She tells them when Caleb slips out of her sight, when he goes for coffee or down the street to Pumat’s place, or the little tea shop. ( _Why all the shops in this city are run by Firbolgs, Bryce will never know._ )  
Caleb’s taken quite a liking to Caduceus, the tea shop owner that decorates his little café section in trailing plants and pink-green colours, beetle sculptures painted careful and mounted over the door. He’s a calming presence, even Nott agrees, a deep and soothing voice and a soft zest for all that life holds.

But the light outside is beginning to dim to orange-purples of sunset, and it’s getting too close to hometime to be bothered. _And_ Alelxander had apparently told Ophelia of the two sleeping, quote, “Adorable nerds,” so Bryce was copping it from _her_ , too.

And they have a message.

So they stop staring, they stop reminiscing, and instead they make their way tentatively up, and shake Caleb’s empty shoulder as lightly as they dare, both Molly and Caleb coming awake at the movement. There’s the sharp inhales of awakening as they sit straight, Molly yawning and stretching, Caleb turning to visually follow the pale hand pulling back from his shoulder.

“Caleb,” Bryce greets, voice quiet to match the room, “Almost hometime. Jester wants me to tell you she’s sent over the last box of tour outfits.”  
  
Caleb feels Molly stiffen beside him. Instinctively, he reaches out for them, takes hold of their hand and pulls, pulls just gently until Molly presses into him, ever so slightly.

“ _More?_ ” Caleb asks, incredulous, eyebrows raised, “She has not made enough?”

“Apparently not.” Bryce is smiling, slightly, mischief dancing in their eyes, “You know Jester. She got a new shipment of velour, so I hear she made something that is one-” they hold up one long finger, “very special and pretty, and two-” another finger, “So glittery that Beau has already said she refuses to take it off the van.”

Caleb chuckles warmly at the idea of Beau willingly going anywhere near glitter.

“Wonderful. Thank you for letting me know.”  
  
“They’ll arrive tomorrow morning.” Bryce nods, “You’ll have to sign for them when they arrive, they’ll be in a pigeonhole at reception by the time you get in, I think.”

“Thanks, Bryce.” Caleb lifts a hand and pats around to grasp Bryce’s wrist in a show of solidarity, and they slip through his fingers as they leave, waving at him with an affectionate smile on their face. Caleb watches them until they’re through the door and completely out of his sight.  
  
Only once Bryce is gone does Caleb turn to Molly.

“Ready to go home? I will see you tomorrow?”

He can see the fingers of Molly’s free hand curling and uncurling, curling and uncurling. It’s a mark of anxiety, of borderline panic.

“I do not mind you touching me, you know.” Caleb tells them gently, “I know that it is how you show reassurance and grounding.”

Molly’s hand is on his arm before he can begin the second half, and Caleb lays a hand over theirs. Their hands are unusually cold- Molly’s hands, up to now, have been warm.

“Don’t worry until it comes.” Caleb tries at reassuring, and Molly pulls their eyes up to meet Caleb’s.

It’s uncomfortable. It always it. Caleb hates eye contact, it always feels- odd. He can. But it’s unpleasant, like he’s being dipped into, read open, cover torn away.  
Molly searches his eyes with their own, looking for answers.

They must find something, because they slip their hand off of his arm and instead tighten their fingers between his own.

“Don’t- let me. Yeah?” Molly tries to piece the sentence together, gives up eventually and sighs, drops their gaze back to the sofa. Caleb gives them a soft smile, so gentle it aches, taps their chin until they look at him.

“Of course.” He tells them, “We can wait.”

They stay there for a further few minutes whilst Molly recollects themself, clinging carefully to Caleb’s fingers, tight and measured and Caleb lets them lean into him. And when they take a loud breath that doesn’t shudder, when they pull away and out of his grip, Caleb blinks slowly at them with pride and admiration.

“Better?” He asks, and Molly smiles back, nods, Caleb’s heart pieces itself back together.

He adores Molly’s smile. Every variation. From the soft one that touches only the corner of their lips but lights their eyes in warmth, to the mischief that curls their mouth to the right, when their eyes grow intense in their concentration. Even their bitter little smile, where their eyes stay sad and angry over the line-like look of their lips.

Caleb pulls himself to his feet beside Molly.

“Come on, then, let’s go. We’ll deal with this tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Caleb.” Molly says, voice uncharacteristically quiet, and they tuck their arm through Caleb’s on the way down, walking with their head on his shoulder. Caleb is silent, but his heart aches for them.

Whatever is wrong, whatever their issue with the outfits, he’s going to solve it.

 

 

  
Nott is waiting for Caleb at home, looking somewhat smug when he opens the door.

“I _saw_ you.” She teases, “You were _so cute_.”

Caleb turns red. Nott laughs at him.

“They- they argued for me. Mollymauk. They had _the meeting_ today, and they argued that they would quit if I was not their manager.”

Nott’s eyes are wide, she traces Caleb as he wanders through into his room, shouting as he changes,

“They came into the staff room upset, they thought that _I_ wanted _them_ gone. What would have been a better reaction?”

“Nothing.” Nott calls back primly, “You did exactly the right thing.”

“That’s a first.” Caleb comments as he comes back into the main room, “Now get your coat and mask, Nott, we’re going out.”

“Oh?” Nott is already scrambling for her things, “Where to?”

Caleb doesn’t reply, just smiles knowingly and collects his own things.

 

“So,” Nott drawls, her hand in Caleb’s, looks up at him, “Where and _why_ are we going?”

Caleb pushes a hand into his hair, drags it back from his face in lines and sighs, worry bunching between his shoulders. All the ease and lightness of his home is gone from the lines of his face, of his form, replaced with the permeating anxiety that follows whenever he sets his foot outside of a place he calls safe. He looks to Nott, expecting an answer from him,

“We are going to Yasha’s house, because she is going to- to help me, with an important and entirely too emotional project for the night.”

Nott is silent along the roads as she thinks.

“Yasha has a _house_?”  
  
“It is a flat, Nott, please- I am very worried and a little bit stressed and my Common is worse than it can be.”

“Sorry.” Nott squishes his hand and lets him pull her down a few more streets. They stop in front of an apartment building with a series of balconies above them, a few of which appear to be full of plants, and one of _those_ trailing little leaves down the building. It looks as though it would flower in the warmer months, but it seems to be mostly dying off for the cold weather.   
It’s dry, today, but dark, and they wait for Yasha to buzz them in huddling together for warmth.

 

“Oh.” Yasha seems shocked to see him, “Hello, Caleb.”

Nott’s off, scampering to sit on one of her countertops and Yasha turns, ruffling her hair affectionately as she passes the goblin eating her food.

She takes Caleb into her main room, where she seems already to be set up for the night ahead. Fabric, scissors, beads and glue abound, three or four little spools of cotton and a pincushion with various needles, pins, and such, looking something like a technicolour hedgehog.

“That is cute.” Caleb gestures to the pincushion, and Yasha’s smile is the one she uses in soft affection, mismatched eyes on the little coloured heads of the pins and the drawn-on nose. _Oh_. It _is_ a technicolour hedgehog.

“Molly made it for me not long after we met, whilst I was teaching them to sew. They’d been listening to one of my audiobooks about technique.”

Caleb can put together the pieces from there, he knows Yasha isn’t one to talk too much.

“I think what you’re doing for them is sweet.”

Caleb tries not to blush. He’s past the point of pretending this is a professional interest, a professional gift. Molly… is his friend. And they deserve nice things. Things nicer than Caleb could ever give them alone.  
He tells Yasha as much before he sits across from her, the material and starch and glue between them.

“What flower are you starting with?”

Caleb takes an even breath as he thinks about it.

“A sunflower. I feel that it will be the most difficult.”

“You’re probably right. Alright, so..”  
  
They begin their work, Nott puts the radio on and brings them food, makes them tea, sits and watches and tries to join in on the rose but gives up and goes back to her phone.

 

Caleb is six petals deep in his own rose when the song comes on.

It’s one of the faster ones that gets him, and it’s seven notes in and Caleb is already heaving for breath, Yasha and Nott are already on their feet and rushing, Caleb is curling in. The intro isn’t even over by the time Yasha slams her hand into the radio and forces it silent.

“Caleb?” Nott asks, gentle as she rushes to him, “You okay?”

“A distraction.” Caleb says, voice quick, “I need a distraction, a conversation, something to- to- _Nott_ , please.”

“Alright.” She says, “Alright. Yasha’s putting on a safer playlist, okay? Why don’t- tell me about the flowers, Caleb.”

“I- The flowers, they’re for Mollymauk.” Caleb’s brow is creased slightly in concentration, like he’s turning up the volume of his thoughts to drown out the song playing in his head, a physical barrier against his memories, “I want to make a range, so they might fit with any outfit they choose. I want them to wear it on stage, I want them to know that I care, I want them to know how proud I am of them.”

“That’s wonderful, Caleb.” Nott says gently, and Yasha manages to get the music on just in time, “Do they have meanings?”

Caleb and Yasha go back to work, and Caleb talks himself dry explaining each little flower meaning to them.

Eventually, Nott falls asleep on Yasha’s couch, and Caleb works late into the night with Yasha. Together, they each make a sunflower, they make a red rose, they make a morning glory, pansies, peonies, a daffodil, and when it comes to three in the morning and they’re both exhausted, Yasha puts her things down and yawns.

“Staying or going?” She asks Caleb, as he mimics.

“I will head home. Nott can stay, if- if that is agreeable.”

“Of course, you know I don’t mind.” Yasha smiles and shuffles off to get a blanket whilst Caleb collects his things. She returns, lays the blanket over Nott, and waits as Caleb calls himself a taxi home.

“I’ll get her to call you in the morning.” Yasha assures as she sees him out, and Caleb smiles weakly at her, exhausted, and waves as he leaves, makes his way downstairs with a bag full of flowers and hope blooming in his heart.

  
  


 

“Heard you spent the night with Yasha.” Molly’s voice is light, teasing, and Caleb chuckles as he takes his seat and waits for Molly to come bring their coffees over.  
  
“Most of it, _ja_. Nott will be coming in with Yasha this morning, she stayed over.”

“Wouldn’t tell me what you were up to, you know. So, what _were_ you doing until _three in the morning,_ Widogast?” Molly leans on one hand, eyebrows raised, and Caleb shakes his head, a little smile on his face,

“It is a secret. I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough.”

“Mysterious!” Molly wrinkles their face in a way that makes Caleb’s heart squish itself a little, “I like it!”

“ _Ja_ ,” Caleb agrees softly, watching the way their face softens out of the wrinkle into a smile over their cup, “I like it too.”

Molly’s eyes flash as they shift in the light, widening; it isn’t the flash of mischief that they get that excites Caleb beyond words, it’s a flash that Caleb doesn’t recognise.

Molly is watching him almost as carefully as he’s watching them.

It’s just occurred to them that what Caleb _likes_ might not be the secret he’s keeping, this time. It could be a different secret altogether.

“So- today’s plan?” Molly sips, and Caleb draws himself back together.

“After the coffee, we need to go and collect the outfits from downstairs.”

Molly stiffens, the smile on their face is gone and Caleb’s heart breaks, audible to his own ears. He doesn’t know how Molly didn’t hear it.

“Let’s- yeah. Yeah, let’s go.” Molly stands, puts their cup on the table, and Caleb follows uneasily.

 

They’re on the third floor when Molly’s already heavy, uneven breathing passes _unfit stair walk_ into _clearly panicking_.

“Come on.” Caleb takes Molly’s hand gingerly, and pulls them out onto the floor itself, around corners to a bathroom.

The calm, white atmosphere of the bathroom is somewhere Caleb has taken himself many times. It’s rare people question, here, you can just seal yourself in a cubicle and stay quiet and nobody will ever know.  
But that isn’t why he’s brought Molly here.

“Here,” Caleb turns on the cold tap and holds his fingertips under, waiting for the cold to become near icy.

Molly comes, still on the border of hyperventilation.

“Run your wrists under the cold water. It takes the edge of the heat off, and provides a distraction of pain- it is a good pain, and easily solved, I promise. It’s okay, Molly.”

Molly’s wrists are in the stream before their name is out of Caleb’s mouth, and Caleb rubs their shoulder gently.  
  
“Would more contact help?” Caleb tries, extrapolating, and Molly nods wordlessly so Caleb settles behind them, cuddles them from behind and sets his head on Molly’s shoulder.

“Is this okay?”

He’d do anything to take the panic away. He’d do anything for Molly.

Molly’s muscles relax under Caleb’s arms, so he takes it as a yes.  
He waits to let go until the tap turns off, and when he draws away, he shifts one hand to hover just close enough to Molly’s shoulder that they can feel his heat.

“Alright.” Caleb says, softly, “I will go for the mail, alone. Wait in my office, _ja?_ I will come to you, and we can talk.”   
  
Molly is shaking, but nods, and as Caleb goes to draw away he finds them throwing themself forward and flinging their arms around him, tight and wordless. Caleb doesn’t like their silence. It doesn’t fit them.

“It’s okay.” He assures, “It’s okay, Molly. I’ll see you soon.” and presses one hand to the small of Molly’s back for a brief second before they separate and slip into the hallway.   
  
Molly takes the stairs, Caleb takes the elevator, and when he comes back to his office with the box in his hands, Molly is sitting in their usual chair, fidgety as he’s ever seen them.

“Hey.” They greet as he enters. That’s one better than before. At least they’re talking now.

“There is no more putting it off, I suppose. What is your issue with the outfits?”

Molly sighs and leans forward onto Caleb’s desk, rubbing the bridge of their nose with their eyes closed, like they can pretend Caleb isn’t there if they don’t see him.

“Okay.” They say, after a short silence, “Okay. This- this is backstory drop, alright? I need- you’ve got to be patient, you’ll have to- bear with me. Believe me. Promise?”

“I don’t think you would lie to me.” Caleb points out, “I- I trust you. I promise.”

“Alright. So. I’m- typical amnesiac? I lost my memories, two, three years ago. I kind of woke up in my own shallow grave. No idea what happened, had a hell of a stab wound apparently. Yasha found me wandering in a forest outside Shady Creek, whilst she was touring as security for   
that- that ginger one. With the keyboard.”   
  
“Alelxander?” Caleb asks, and Molly snaps their fingers, nods,   
  
“Alelxander, yeah. The one with the weird name. I could barely speak, or walk, couldn’t read or write, Yasha took me under her wing and taught me how to do basic things, taught me how to mentally- process? Listening?”  
The audiobooks make more sense now.   
“Well, when I found… myself, in all that mess, other people just kind of called me _he_ and _him_ and addressed me as a man, which, I was okay with I think. Because I didn’t- I don’t really- have any concept of what gender _is_ , aside from you’re supposed to- to do things? Certain things? Like be softer if you’re a woman or fight if you’re a man?”

“That is bullshit.” Caleb says, and Molly hums an agreement,

“I didn’t- don’t feel like any of that. But I was socialised like a man, and I have- it’s hard. Shaking it. I’m not. I’m not a man, I’m not a woman, I just- I just _am_.”

“You’re a Molly.” Caleb’s lips quirk into a smile. Nott had said similar to Bryce, when they had introduced themself.

“I’m a Molly.” Molly agrees, and though their face is turned down and their eyes are on their laced fingers against the desk, Caleb sees them smile.  
  
Then he sees their eyes widen.

Then he sees them look up, like they’ve been startled.

“You called me Molly!” They say, and a wide smile spreads across their face, “ _You called me Molly!_ Three times!”

Caleb gives a soft chuckle,  
“You are my friend.” He tells them, “You are my Molly.”

Molly can’t throw themself into a hug from across the desk, so they take one of Caleb’s hands from the wood and pull it to their lips to kiss his knuckles instead.  
They take a few moments to calm down when Caleb’s hand is released and he pulls it to his chest, colouring pink and facing Molly’s smile.

“Though, regarding- um. Regarding your gender- I had sort of figured as much. How _do_ you identify?”

“Probably genderfluid.” Molly shrugs, like it doesn’t matter to them, “It changes day-to-day on how I want to dress but- I’ve been iffy with the outfits because I can’t tell you how I want to dress until that day. Sometimes it changes halfway through.”

Caleb is smiling a little.

“I had assumed that, too. I’m glad that I was right- Jester and I have been _very_ thorough, we prepared, together, some- they can be versatile. Things such as suits, skirts, pants, Jester has even tailored you a couple of dresses if you would be so inclined.”

Molly’s mouth hangs open. And snaps shut so they can answer,

“I’ve… not worn a dress publically. Only in the apartment, with Fjord. He’s _so_ fucking supportive, Caleb, I landed on my feet with him.”

Caleb startles a little,

“Are you dating? I’m not quite up to date.”

“Oh, no!” Molly waves a hand, “We had a casual thing going on for a while but eventually it settled down to we’d prefer to fuck other people. I still sleep with him, though. In the same- same bed, it’s a one-room flat, and he’s warmer than he looks.”

Caleb smiles, a little. He knows.

“From what I know of Fjord, from how he is treating Jester, I can believe that he is a genuinely nice person. Though you should know, just as he should, if he should hurt or upset her in any way, I will come for him.”

Molly studies the suddenly grave expression on Caleb’s face. He’s deadly serious.

“Nott and I will come for him. He will never bear children, Molly, do you understand?”

“I understand _perfectly,_ darling. And may I say the same for Jester? She’s an absolute sweetheart, but should she fuck with my Fjord without his permission, I won’t hesitate to come for her, either.”

Despite the threats and the sincerity behind them, they’re both smiling, wide, bright grins. Caleb looks to the table, and finds his hands twined with Molly’s, though he can’t remember doing or feeling such a thing. It’s pleasant, though, Molly’s hands are warm, now. Caleb tightens his grip.

“In regard to your outfits, they have been made deliberately versatile, so you can switch up your look on the day. We have a range of shirts, skirts, overshirts, cloaks, and Jester will be on hand for makeup. We have plenty of glitter prepared for you.”

Molly pulls Caleb’s hand to their mouth again and litters his skin with little kisses, words failing them. They can’t exactly mark the moment this became _okay_ , but they’re _pretty sure_ it happened with them shouting at Bryce. Everything has been different.  
It’s only been a _day_.

“Thank you.” Molly murmurs, presses the words against Caleb’s skin, “ _Thank you._ ”

“I could do no less for you, Molly, you really- I don’t deserve this.” Caleb gently slips his hand out of Molly’s grip and mourns the loss of warmth with it.

“We should go get something to eat, or drink, something.” Molly tells Caleb, and receives a hum of agreement,

“Caduceus’ place today, I think.” he tells Molly, pulling himself to his feet and treading his way along to the door, looking over his shoulder to make sure Molly is following. When he assures they are, they head out, hearing no protest on Caduceus from Molly.

 

They’re halfway down the street when Caleb shoulder-bumps Molly gently,

“Have you researched into gender dysphoria? It may be of interest to you.”

Molly’s step falters, and when it returns, they loop their arm through Caleb’s to ground themself,

“I’ve… looked at it. But I don’t- I’m uncomfortable.”

“We can look at it together?” Caleb offers, “I have- I understand dysphoria. I know how it can be.”

Molly’s head tilts fractionally, but they don’t press, just cling closer.

“I am here with you, Molly.” Caleb adds. Quiet, but determined. The sign of Caduceus’ Tea Shop is in sight, and Molly starts to shake and shiver with restrained tears.

Caleb feels it against him and turns.

“Oh, Molly.”

He reaches up and swipes his thumb across Molly’s cheek, catches one of the rolling tears, and pulls until Molly collapses into him, sobbing.

“This is okay.” Molly hiccups through sobs, “This isn’t a bad cry.”

“Hush.” Caleb soothes in reply, stroking Molly’s hair, “You can explain later.”

They stand in the grey light of the afternoon, Molly shakes in Caleb’s arms.

 

Caleb holds his friend tight.

 

He vows not to let go.


	6. Chasing Cars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is:  
> [Chasing Cars - Snow Patrol](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GemKqzILV4w)
> 
> (The author would like to politely request that no references to the song are made in the comments, as it causes him a panic response. Relevance in-fic.)
> 
> Molly goes on tour.

The time between that and the tour seems endless and miniscule, all at the same time. Caleb blinks in Caduceus’ Tea Shop and opens his eyes to the eleventh, driving behind the tour bus, Nott leaning out of her window dangerously and whooping into the wind.

Caduceus’ pink hair becomes the sunset-streaked sky, his green apron the trees that hedge the road, the blue-grey of his fur into the asphalt stretching before, behind, and under them. Wildflowers dot the hedgerows and Caleb thinks of the Firbolg, missing him with a dull sense that confuses and amazes him.

Others in his life, ones that Caleb isn’t close to, and he misses them. Is this what it is to be able to care?

He asks Nott as much and by the grin on her face, he has his answer. It is, he is getting better, and nobody now can stop him.

 

Nott comes to Caleb that first night with an idea.

She’s been out the back, drinking with Dean Vaudrey and turning down his offer of a smoke. She _likes him_ , Caleb, not in a _oh let’s get married and have babies_ way- in much more of a _I must protect this poor child_ way. She proposes to Caleb her plan-

Molly and Kody Vaudrey do _not_ get along. At all. It’s not that they hate one another, no, they actually quite like one another, but travelling together is a complete no-go. Kody is a neat freak, Molly is just a little too messy for his standards, their whole personality is colouring just a little outside of the lines and calling it artistic direction. When they sleep, when they’re not together, Nott thinks it will be fine. They’re out of one another’s way, it’s easy to rest, but during the day- and hear her out, she tells him- during the day,

“What if we… switch. Have _me_ on the bus, leave Molly in your car?”  
  
“It is unlike you to suggest being away from me.” Caleb raises an eyebrow, a smile on his face.

“It isn’t forever!” Nott protests, clambering into her little nest of blankets, “Just on the road. _And_ you can sort out Molly’s set lists.”

“Have we not already sorted those?” Caleb frowns, “I thought we had?”

“Not the wildcard.” Nott replies primly. Caleb groans and presses his face into his hands.

“They want a _wildcard_?”

“You know Molly.” He can _hear_ the shrug in her voice, “We’ll swap in the morning, get some sleep!”

Like he could, when she’s just dropped that on him. Molly is absolutely going to catch it in the neck from him in the morning, but Caleb knows that Molly knows he won’t deny them what they want. They’re his _favourite_ , got him wrapped around their little finger, really. What Molly wants, Caleb will do, that’s just how it goes- it’s the danger, then, of growing to care about the people you’re supposed to manage and move like pawns in a game of chess.  
And Caleb lies there in the dark, staring at the streetlamps through his windshield for what feels like hours, maybe days. The light is golden yellow and twinkles through the soft patter of rain on the car, a sound that would usually coax Caleb off to sleep but tonight, tonight it makes him think.

It’s odd, but he misses Molly.

Maybe they’ll still be awake. Nott is asleep, he can hear it in her breathing, so he scrabbles quietly for a pen and a post-it and scrawls a note to let her know he’s on the bus and to go back to sleep, he’ll be back soon, sticks it to her window. And crawls out of the car, quiet as he possibly can, locks it behind him and heads over to the bus.

 

 

Kari, the day driver, is still up when he gets there, reclining in the chair with her ankles crossed on top of the wheel, scrolling on her phone. The light illuminates her face in blue-white, shocks the albino blond of her undyed hair, Caleb knocks lightly on the window and makes her jump, face falling from the pout into an _o_ of shock.

The hydraulics puff and the door slides open,

“Caleb?” It’s partway between a greeting and a question and she leans over, still in the seat, offers him a hand up the first step that he takes like it’s natural. She heaves, he comes, seems she’s been working out since last he saw her.

“Ah- _ja_ , hello, Kari. Is Mollymauk still awake? I have business to discuss with them-”

“You know I _know_ you’re friends, right?” Kari arches an eyebrow, “Most of the staff do. A _shocking_ amount of us were in the staff room that day.”

Caleb blushes, Kari laughs at him and waves a hand in the direction of the sleeping quarters.

“They were still awake last time I was through, a couple minutes ago. Mind Xero, he’s just getting up.”

“Thank you.” Caleb slips through the door and leaves her to her phone, heading through to see Molly instead.

They are, in fact, still awake, dressed in a loose shirt and shorts and still perfectly made-up, their hair still tied in a bun. Caleb is shocked to see them so perfect, and tells them as much, eliciting a chuckle,

“I don’t like people seeing me without my face, it doesn’t look right. Coming to sit?” and they pat the couch beside them. It’s an invite if Caleb has ever seen one, so he shuffles over and sits, settles against Molly.

“No work.” He groans, “No conversation of work. Nothing. Just- I just want to sit, for a while. Is that okay?”

“More than, Caleb.” Molly pulls an arm around Caleb’s shoulders and squishes and that’s how they sit. For a while, actually, silent but together, on their phones scrolling twitter and tumblr and checking Molly’s instagram. Xero gets up, heads past them to the driver’s cabin with little more than a mumble. Kari comes past the other way, waving her phone silently, heading to bed.

It’s getting close to one in the morning when Caleb yawns and Molly shakes to keep him awake.

“Go to bed, Caleb.” Molly murmurs, and then _they_ yawn too, “That’s where I’m off to.”

“A good idea.” Caleb grimaces, “See you tomorrow, Molly.”

He’s standing, Molly does the same beside him and pulls him into a loose goodnight hug.

“Night, Caleb.” Molly says through sleep, dawdling off to bed and waving.

“Goodnight, Molly.” And Caleb heads through to the driver’s cabin, thanks Xero politely when he opens the door, and he pauses outside to pee before he heads back to his own car. The post-it comes down, Caleb curls into his own blanket pile, and he stares through his windshield at the golden lights of the street lamps outside.

And he blinks.  
And the world hazes.

And he falls, finally, to sleep.

 

He’s still sleeping when Nott slips out of the car just after the sun has fully risen. She shuffles off to the bus, waves at Xero until he opens the door.

“Morning.” He greets, half slumped on the wheel. She smiles at him as she climbs past,

“You can sleep soon.”  
  
“Still don’t know why I gotta stay up all night.” he huffs, “Nothin’ll happen.”

“Just for watch.” Nott soothes, “Kari will take over soon. I can keep an eye until she’s up?”

“Would you mind?” Xero is already clambering out of his seat, yawning, “I don’t want t’ impose.”

Nott waves a hand and slips past him to hop up into his vacant seat,

“Send me Mollymauk and we’ll be even.” She tells him, voice mischievous and smug, and he mumbles a thanks as he trails away.

Nott settles herself in to wait. She expects Molly to be a while, so she looks out of the window and watches the cars go by instead, humming one of the Vaudreys’ songs and studying each person as they pass.

In theory, Nott _can_ drive. She knows how, she could, but they don’t make cars for people her size. Even dwarves and halflings, they find, don’t get the chance. Caleb was researching things to help, but like most of the things she doesn’t remind him about, it fell into the pit of things he’ll get back to later.

She loves her boy, but he’s so bad at following through on the little things.

“Nott?”

Thankfully, though, not the big things. The big, half naked purple things trailing into the driver’s cabin, rubbing their eyes and yawning their way along.

“Hi Molly!” She greets, chipper as ever, and scoots to the other side of the seat so Molly can perch daintily on the outside edge, “Caleb agreed to the switch, so you’ll be with him today!”  
  
“You dragged me out of bed for that?”  
  
“Well,” Nott’s voice turns to a drawl, “That, and to see that Spotify playlist you made for the car.”

Molly frowns. Yeah, they’ve finished it but- why would _Nott_ want to see it? She’s not going to be there.

Despite their confusion, Molly withdraws their phone from their pocket and hands it to her, open on the playlist, and Nott hums a thank-you as she begins to scroll. Molly doesn’t see as she quietly removes one song, then another, clearing the playlist of anything that might cause Caleb to panic.  
He’d almost crashed, the last time that happened. It had been an experience, and not one that Nott particularly wants her boy to repeat.

Molly falls asleep against the driver’s seat whilst Nott Caleb-proofs the playlist. They don’t wake up until Kari- Xero’s little sister- comes in and ruffles their hair to startle them awake. They yelp and jump away, up, Nott holds their phone out to them.

“Put on a shirt and git,” Kari grins, “We’re on the road in ten.”

“Do I have to put on a shirt?” Molly pouts.

“No.” Kari answers, as Nott replies,

“Yes.”

They glance and faux-glare at one another, a silent war that Nott appears to win,

“Yes.” She says again, “You’ll scare Caleb off. He’s intimidated by the pretty ones.”

“Caleb thinks that I’m _pretty?_ ” Molly puts a hand to their chest, shocked, and Nott rolls her eyes,

“You know he does! He told you the first time you met!”

Molly is… oddly quiet. Kari disappears into the back to retrieve a shirt for them.

“I thought he was fucking with me.” Molly says, their voice the quiet of honesty, and Nott frowns,

“No? Why would he lie about that?” Nott’s head cocks as she stands, genuinely confused. Kari returns, and hands Molly their shirt, ushering them off of the bus without another word. Nott watches as they pull their shirt on, plodding over and climbing into Caleb’s car.

“Head on back, Nott, we leave in five.” Kari scoots past her and sits in the driver’s seat, and Nott, silently, obeys.

 

 

“Morning.” Molly smiles at Caleb as they adjust the front passenger seat to their preference, and Caleb leans up in the blankets in the back of his car, yawning.

“Good morning. Are we leaving?”

“Five minutes.” Molly wiggles their fingers, and Caleb sits up so fast he bumps his head on the roof, makes Molly giggle. They lean around the chair, “Oh, darling.”  
Caleb fake-pouts, eerily Jester-like, and Molly reaches toward him, strokes his head gently over his hand, where he’d bumped.

“Five minutes? I could not have more warning?”

“Sorry, sweetheart, I think _I_ was your warning.”

“I’m going to pee and change and we will get moving.” Caleb pulls a face, “Could you call Kari? Let her know to wait? The passcode for my phone is 7-8-7-9-8-4-8-4.”

“Which phone?” Molly calls as Caleb’s back door opens and he slips out. He doesn’t answer, so Molly picks them both up.

Caleb’s _friend_ phone still has a crack in the screen protector, but it functions. It turns out that the work phone is the one that the passcode fits- figures, Molly guesses, Caleb wouldn’t trust them with his personal life.

Caleb comes back midway through Molly’s phone call with Kari, changes in the back seat and demands Molly faces away. Molly catches sight, purely by accident, of Caleb shirtless in the mirror and forces their eyes shut with the visual imprinted on their eyelids.

Caleb’s chin down to mid-torso, dangerously thin, with pronounced ribs and a dusting of hair down his chest. That, and two twin scars, just under his pectorals.

And ah.

It makes a sudden lot of sense as to just why Caleb understands so much about dysphoria.

Molly really wishes they hadn’t seen. To clarify- and they go over it in their own mind, too- they have no issue- how could they? They just… didn’t need to know. It’s Caleb’s business if he wanted to tell them. They feel like they’ve invaded his privacy, as accidental as it was, and it boils within them.  
They can pretend that they don’t know, until the day Caleb decides he wants to tell them, if he ever wants to tell them.

“Tell Kari I’m ready.” Caleb rips them out of their own mind as he slips out of the back of the car again, and clambers instead back into the driver’s seat. Molly passes it on, having kept the call live, and the bus in front of them shudders to life. Caleb pulls the car awake, too, and Molly plugs their phone in as the next leg of the journey begins, filling the car with their music.

 

They organise the songs that Molly will sing. They have three varieties on their setlist- angry, sad, and hopeful, and will choose each one depending on the mood of the crowd as they come in. It’s fine, Caleb reasons to himself, because it’s all pre-prepared.  
The wildcard is another matter.

“You realise that you may be performing completely acapella, _ja_?”

“Yeah, I know.” Molly shrugs, “My voice is good. I’ll be alright.”

Caleb sighs and pushes his face into his hand for a moment, peering through his fingers to keep one eye on the road,

“You’re messing with the plans, Molly. It’s- I’m not-”

“Alright, here’s my ideas, love: either one of the Vaudreys’ songs, one of my own, or a cover of another band.”

“So pretty much any song.” Caleb says, voice monotone, “That is not clarifying.”

“I have a list, on the bus.” Molly chirrups, “I can show you!”

“We’ll look at it later, _ja?_ ” Caleb’s fingers clench on the wheel, “Tomorrow, you will perform a cover. Pass the title onto your band directly, it will save me liaising.”

“Okay.” Molly agrees, “Mind if I take a nap?”

They’re already cuddling up against the window with a blanket they’d pulled from Caleb’s bed, they know that Caleb won’t say no.

“Of course not. Sleep well, Molly.” 

“Thank you, darling.” Molly yawns and pulls the blanket tight around them. It smells of books, of leather, of that odd musty, dusty rotting leaf scent that Nott takes, too. It smells of Caleb, of Caleb’s life, it’s so nice and comforting and wonderful and Molly drifts off to sleep easily.

 

When they wake, they’re laid back and the sky outside is grey like dawn should be. Caleb is asleep, too, laid across the space and the bags and wrapped in blankets with his head on Molly’s hip, over bone. It can’t be comfortable, but Caleb is flat out.

Molly, completely on impulse, runs their fingers through Caleb’s hair and stifles a soft chuckle when Caleb pushes into it without waking.

“Sweetheart.” They murmur into the dim dawn light, and close their eyes again, letting the grey depths of sleep pull them back under.

 

“An hour to go, Caleb.” Dolan Thrym, manager for the Vaudreys, deigns to remind him gently.

“Thank you, Dolan.” Caleb snaps, “I can tell the time.” 

Dolan just sighs and shuffles off, adjusting his headset and chattering through the comms to someone up in the tech booth.

“Sweetheart.” Molly’s voice is, unsurprisingly, both a shock and a relief. They’ve poked their head out of makeup to talk to him, “Caleb, come in here. Come on.”

There’s a hand on his sleeve and no taking _no_ as an answer, Caleb lets himself go pliantly into the brightly-lit room, to Molly’s chair where they’re pulled back by Jester.

“No running off.” She scolds, goes back to her work lining their eyes.

“Have you decided what you’re going to wear, yet?”

Molly worries the inside of their lip, glad of Jester’s command not to talk, as they use the spare time to think over the answer they want to give. She pulls away for a moment, and Molly’s spare time is up,

“I think I know _what_ , just not _which_ what, if you get me?”

“I do.” Caleb understands perfectly. “What do you want?”

“A dress.” Molly answers, though their tone is uncertain, “I want- I want a dress.”

Jester comes back to brush iridescent highlighter on their face, and they return to their statuesque status.

“I know the perfect one. The burgundy one, Jester?”  
  
“Ooh!” Jester exclaims, excited, “Perfect! Now I can actually do the colours.” And returns to her palettes for the wine-darks and reds.

“I’m nervous.” Molly admits, “I- the crowd, they are’t Fjord. They might not be so nice.”

“If Fjord thinks you suit a dress, you suit a dress.” Jester beams over her shoulder, “He doesn’t know how to lie to people he likes.”

“It is true.” Caleb agrees, and Molly laughs a little despite their nerves,

“Alright. I trust you, Caleb.”

“You will look incredible.” Caleb assures them gently, and then a thought occurs to him. Something he’d almost forgotten, “How are you wearing your hair?”  
  
“A braid.” Jester answers before Molly can, and Caleb is out of the room before her voice has finished echoing.

 

When he returns, Molly’s makeup is done, Jester is braiding their hair, and they’re already wearing the dress. Nott had gone to collect it, apparently, whilst Caleb ran to his car.

“Thought you’d left me, darli- _ow_ , Jester.” Molly’s joke is jerked into a quick hiss of pain,  
  
“Sorry.” Jester giggles like she isn’t sorry at all. She ties off Molly’s hair with a flourish. “All done!”

Molly twirls for Caleb. And Caleb’s heart stutters and aches in his chest, he presses the heel of his empty hand to his ribcage in a futile attempt to steady the quiver inside of him.  
Mollymauk Tealeaf is stunning. Incredible. They glitter and glimmer in the lights of the makeup studio, their braid trails behind them, the darker burgundy of the ruffles brightens the shimmer of the red velour that makes the main dress, with a slit up their left leg for movement. They wear knee-high boots to match and Caleb can barely breathe.

“ _Ja_.” He manages, “Ah- _ja,_ oh. Mollymauk, you are- you are breathtaking.”

“Thank you, darling.” Molly gives an exaggerated wink, “Cutting it close though. Ten minutes till curtain up.”

“That is not the terminology.” Caleb almost laughs, and the correction drives his legs to move.

“Jester,” Nott raises her eyebrows, “We need to go and- we need to look at something. Outside.”  
Ah, Nott. Not subtle, but perfect, as she could only ever be to Caleb. He feels within a rush of love and adoration for her, she pulls Jester from the room and leaves them alone.

“Caleb?” Molly tilts their head, raising their eyebrows, “What’s so private?”  
  
“She is not subtle, but- ah. I have… this for you.”  
  
Caleb holds out his hands, cupped. In the dip, he holds the rose that Yasha had helped him to make, turned now into a hair pin.

“I made this.” He tells Molly, and they take it gently to inspect it, “Yasha helped me make it. We made a few, actually, to- to fit whatever outfit you chose. It goes in your hair, you could attach it to your hair tie, if you want to wear it. If you don’t, that’s fine, I understand-”

“Caleb.” Molly cuts him off gently, and presses the rose into one of Caleb’s hands, sandwiches both between their own, “I love it. I love- it’s perfect. Sweetheart, it’s- you’re wonderful. Thank you. Would you put it in for me?”  
  
And they turn, dragging their skin across Caleb’s and putting their back to him. Caleb is struck by the desire to map out the texture of the scarred and inked skin over Molly’s one bare shoulder blade, but sates himself instead by running his fingers gently over the braid. It’s covered in glitter, Jester has covered every inch of Molly in glitter and they shimmer like the angel they truly are. Caleb takes the braid, pins the rose carefully to the tie and runs his thumb across the petals, staring in adoration.  
And then he releases it as Dolan sticks his head in the door,

“Ten minutes, Mollymauk, we need you on stage!”

And he’s gone. They’re left alone, Molly turns to Caleb again, and the warmth and affection in their eyes heats Caleb’s breath in his lungs, in his throat, it burns through him and his heart feels like it’s swelling in his chest, pushing at his ribs and aching like it’s full of helium instead of blood. Molly glitters, their makeup makes them seem ethereal, otherworldly, like they aren’t really here but they _are,_ they’re staring at him like he’s- like he’s special.

Like they’re happy to see him.

Like they always have been.

_Like he’s worth it._

“Thank you.” Molly says, soft and reverent and overwhelming. Caleb closes his eyes because he can’t comprehend this any more. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

He feels Molly’s warmth, their hand cups the right side of his face, his jaw, and the scent of lavender they trail with them becomes everything, stronger, they kiss the edge of the scruff on his cheek, where it’s mostly plain skin and they linger there for what feels like forever. Hours, it could be days, Caleb wants to capture and hold it, hold them, hold them in place there, forever, touching him.

Their absence is cold when they pull away, drop their hand from his cheek, but cold in a way that promises a return, the way Nott’s chair chills when she goes to make coffee.

“You’ll be wonderful.” He breathes to the room, Molly is already past him at the door and he turns, eyes open just in time to catch them smiling over velour ruffled shoulder.

“I know, darling.” They say, and they’re gone, off to the stage. Caleb pads to the mirror in their absence, walking like a dream, hand to his cheek where they’d kissed and when he pulls it away, he sees the lipstick-print they’ve left behind, wine-coloured and burning and the most wonderful mark that Caleb has ever borne.

“Caleb?” Nott’s voice reaches tentatively through his reverie, “Come to the green room? They have screens, we can watch Molly from there. They’ll be on in a minute.”

“Coming.” He murmurs back, and follows her numbly.

 

He stands in the green room, twitching, rubbing his thumb against his middle and forefinger as fast as his hands will move. The blurry, static feeling of the repetitive motion is grounding, it helps to remind him to breathe. Nott stands next to him, his coat bunched in her fist and her brow furrowed in silence. When he looks down, instead of at the blank wall, she finally speaks,

“What’s got you worried? This is going to be fine!”

“This is mine, Nott.” Caleb turns them to face a screen, full right now of bars. Two of the other three display the same, the stage cameras, according to the labels. The fourth is in the interview lounge, which, Caleb suspects, will be going all night. Molly isn’t scheduled for an interview, but there’s a variety of people coming in and out of there.

“What’s _yours?_ ”

“Molly. They are _my_ client, they are _my_ friend, they are _mine_ and if this goes wrong, it is on me. If something happens- they will blame me, Nott, and all of this- all of this will be- it won’t matter. They will leave me behind.”

“Worry about it if it happens, not before.” Nott says sagely, just as the first stage camera pops on to an empty stage. And then the second. And then the third.

And then Molly comes onstage.  
And all of Caleb’s doubt, all of his anxiety, it all crests to a pinprick and fades away in the same second. He takes a breath and it feels, for the first time in years, like it comes easy.

“Hold on.” Nott scrambles for the audio, and they get that, too, midway through Molly introducing themself and Caleb almost melts in the space he occupies.

Molly is a different kind of stunning on the stage. It won’t and can’t compare to them in the flesh, with their skin under Caleb’s fingertips, running hot and radiating heat but on the stage- they take so much _space_. They demand attention, the way Caleb always said they would.  
And then they begin. Their first song is _Midas_ , and Caleb aches something fierce for the music.

Even though he’s been _working_ on _Midas_ with them, it seems different on the stage. More full, like Molly is singing the words to life, Caleb barely notices when Nott tells him she’ll be in the makeup studio, Jester needs her, he waves her away with his eyes on Molly.

Molly’s glitter catches the light when they shift, taking steps and altering their volume, their pitch like they’ve been here for years, adjustments on even the original that Caleb knows well, his breath comes shallow to his chest.

And then _oop_ , Caleb trips backwards onto one of the couches in this room, head spinning and still with his eyes on Molly on the screen.

Molly’s dress slit is the bane of Caleb’s heart, it keeps splitting to an expanse of purple, half a thigh, it shouldn’t be so beautiful but it _is_ , Molly is beautiful, they could make anything exquisite.  
Behind them, now Caleb’s brain is beginning to soothe itself, he can see the band. It’s half plucked from the Vaudreys, half theirs, Yasha is on the drums and not even watching as her hands move, too busy watching Molly with the small smile and alight eyes of untainted pride. She loves her best friend _so much_ , Caleb adores this expression on her.

Everything is _so much_ and doesn’t plan on stopping, seemingly, even when _Midas_ ends to a chorus of cheers that Caleb hears, not just through the screens, but through the _ceiling_ , from the stage above.

His eyes dart to the close-up camera of Molly’s face and finds them flushed and beaming, calling their thanks to the crowd. Molly pauses between their songs, takes a swig from a bottle of water that Yasha holds out to them from the drumset and returns to the mic stand,

“What a welcome!” They call to the crowd, and Caleb presses back into the sofa with his head spinning, “What a welcome, this is the first show- the first! I’ve _ever_ done, and you’re all so _kind_.”

Another short cheer, some indecipherable shouts, and Molly beams out to the crowd with their tail whipping in excitement behind them. Caleb grasps for his breath and his personality in the haze Molly sets over him, pulls it to himself and draws deep, pulls the cool air of the green room into his lungs. Molly begins their next song, one of their originals that they had come to him with, Caleb’s phone vibrates.

 

**FROM: Dolan Thrym**

Mollymauk’s merch table up in lobby.

 

**TO: Dolan Thrym**

Thank you.

 

His attention comes back to Molly on the screen. He’d orchestrated this lighting himself, with his techie backgrounding, but onstage it looks so much better. More wonderful, the blue light catches the glitter on the dress and sends reflections spiralling, it highlights Molly’s cheekbones and turns the red of their lipstick to almost black. Their eyes, too, red drained of colour in the opposing light, and by all the Gods above and below, they are _stunning_.

And then- Caleb could have missed it if he wasn’t so awe-stricken- and then they gently, gently pull their braid over their shoulder.

If his heart had been beating before, it isn’t now, he sees Molly’s light, long fingers run so lightly over the petals of the rose, Caleb sees the red bend and flex under their soft touch, the little curls of the edges bowing under the gentle pressure.

The song comes to an end, and Molly goes for their water, and back to the stand, displaying the rose to the closest camera.

“See this?” They open, eyes over the crowd, “This was a gift. Given to me just before I came on stage- _just_ before, we’re talking about ten minutes.”

There’s a quiet laugh from the crowd, and Molly smiles, nods, returns,

“It was a gift from someone I- I care about. Someone important to me.”

Caleb sees their eyes searching for a camera,

“Someone that I don’t _ever_ want to lose.”

And they launch into their third song.

 

All of those feelings. From the night they’d gone out drinking, the flickering flame-bright sensation of green in his chest, in his mind, they’re all back, everything that Caleb had hoped to crush down returns in full flood. If he wasn’t already sitting, he’d collapse, gasping for breath and thought like he’s been physically struck. _Gods,_ Molly is going to be the end of him.

It’s like-

It’s like a reassurance. That this is permanent. That Caleb isn’t losing this one. This isn’t temporary, Molly _cares_ , for Gods’ sake.

The seconds slip by over the song.

It comes to the end. To the wildcard. To the cover. Caleb stands and brushes himself down with his heart hummingbird-quick in his chest, ready to head up and meet his client, his friend, his Molly off of the stage when they’re done and then the song begins.  


All of the warmth drains from Caleb.

 

“Oh, no.”

 

Yasha should have stopped this. Molly was meant to _tell the band_ what they were playing.

He twitches, clamps his hands over his ears and hums, hums to try and shut it out, try to shut it up, he wants Nott but his legs give out before he can get to the door.  
The tears come like a tidal wave, crashing around him and drawing, pulling, crushing him and forcing out every bit of hope, when he opens his eyes for a split second, he sees Yasha fighting her way up from the drumset and Molly- Molly finishes the chorus and ends the song, shouting a bright thank-you to the crowd as they make their way off-stage, waving, and Caleb lapses into a full panic attack.

 

It’s like ice runs through his veins, and it hurts, hurts so _much_ it aches, tears, Caleb tugs handfuls of his hair and rocks in place just to keep his heart beating. If he stops, if he stops it’ll stop, his heart’ll stop, it’ll stop. He doesn’t _want_ it to stop, he was so happy just a few minutes ago he wants- wants to chase, wants to chase that feeling, please just bring it back.

Twitching and thinking and everything in his head goes over, repeats and catches and tries. And he rocks.

 

 

“Nott?” Yasha pushes backstage, “ _Nott? Caleb?_ ”

“Whoa, whoa, Yasha,” Beau has a hand on her arm, face wracked in concern, “What’s up? Why the panic?”  
  
“Where is Caleb? Where’s Nott?”

“Uh- try makeup, prob’ly with Jester, why? What’s happened?”

Yasha sees Beau’s muscles bunch in her concern, Yasha’s panic seeping into her, too,

“That last song- Caleb will panic if he hears it. I need to make sure he’s okay.”

“Alright.” Beau turns, scans the small crowd of backstage fans and staff, “Alright. Come on-”

And she’s surging ahead, carving a path and calling for people to move, Yasha tries to follow and buffets people falling back in until Beau twists and takes her hand to connect them, drags her through the corridor with her.

“Makeup is this way. Down here.” Beau turns, “Why didn’t you stop it?”

“I- I don’t know. I didn’t realise until it started.”

Beau pulls a face, Yasha’s twists in blame,

“It’s my fault.”  
  
“Don’t be fuckin’ stupid, ‘course it wasn’t. Nobody’s fault, they didn’t know, you didn’t realise. Here.”

Beau pushes the door to makeup open and they find Jester chattering with Nott inside, they both look up when Yasha enters,

“Yasha?”

“Where’s Caleb?”

 

Caleb curls tighter, tries so hard to make himself disappear.  
Why isn’t Nott here? Why is he alone? Where is Yasha, what about Jester, where’s Nott? Why aren’t they here?

Why is he alone?

Handfuls of hair and he feels ripping at the roots where his fingers clench harder and twist and the door opens to Molly’s loud voice and presence,

“That was _amazing_ , Caleb, holy _shit_ \- Caleb?”

Caleb’s breath catches and roils and stutters and he rocks, he can’t even summon the words for an answer, he wants to, he needs to, if he doesn’t answer then- he’ll- he’ll-

He’ll fade away. He’ll disappear.

Molly will leave. He’ll be alone.

He’ll lose- love- lose-

“Caleb, sweetheart.” Molly comes and tries to crouch and their dress just won’t bend that far, “No. Oh, fuck, darling, just a second.”

Caleb doesn’t see them twisting their arms behind their back, Caleb doesn’t see them pulling and, eventually, tearing, yanking their dress until it comes loose and they slip out of it into just their undershorts, they drop to the floor beside Caleb.

“Come here, my dear, come on.” and they wind their arms around him, pull him in, hold their little ball of Caleb to their bare chest and cuddle him tight as he panics himself away.

“Don’t worry, darling, it’s okay.” They murmur into Caleb’s hair, rocking them both slowly, “I’m not going anywhere. You can cry. I’ll be right here when you’re okay again, I’ll always be right here. It’s okay.”

Caleb sobs into his arms, and wishes he could cuddle into Molly, wishes he could move his own body, that he wasn’t locked into this, this position, Molly holds him and he can’t even manage a croak.

All he can manage, in fact, is leaning in just a little, just a little bit to Molly’s shoulder, and a few moments later, to turn and press his face to Molly’s neck.

And that’s where they stay. Molly refuses the offered encore when Dolan comes looking, Caleb panics and relaxes, just enough to loosen, to wind his arms around Molly, unable to speak but infinitely grateful.

 

“It’s alright, sweetheart.” He hears Molly murmur as they rub circles into his back. “It’s okay.”

 

He chokes sobs like he believes them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please compliment me I need attention


	7. Sweater Weather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is:  
> [Sweater Weather - The Neighbourhood](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GCdwKhTtNNw)
> 
> The end of the tour comes, and with great cat comes great realisation.

“So, darling, what was it that set you off?” Molly looks to Caleb from the corner of their eye, watches his hands tighten on the wheel and reclines, “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me. I just want to help.”

“It was-” Caleb tries, chokes his words and swallows down his doubt, breathes, “It was the song. The cover. It- I- I have- my life- Issues. Problems with songs. I know, it is pathetic, I- why am I in this- this business-”

“Caleb, sweetheart, it’s not pathetic at all. Triggers come in all shapes sizes and senses. I have issues with a particular vape scent, it doesn’t- not a full attack, but the kind of hyper alert, when something is wrong.”

“I know the feeling. Molly-” Molly looks, Caleb is driving one handed, waving the other out toward them and they take it, briefly, squeeze and kiss his fingers before they release.

“Ten and two, Caleb.” and their voice is sweet, Caleb glances at their soft smile and the way their cheeks dimple, the way it makes their pretty eyes sparkle.

He has all the time in the world to appreciate the sight, just- not now. He’s driving.

“If you’re up to it, any time, tell me some of the songs that cause you problems? Just- I don’t want to do that again. I don’t _ever_ want to hurt you.”

“You are very sweet.” Caleb gives as answer, Molly can see a smile but doesn’t press, just leans back in their chair and watches Caleb’s intense concentration. His eyes are such a bright blue amongst the grey and dark of the weather, the light of the street lamps sets Caleb to solid gold where it touches, lighting his red hair in yellow and adding depths to the shadows under his eyes that Molly worries for and finds beautiful, all at the same time.There’s something sweet and soft, unfurling in their chest, like a flower they can feel blooming. A deep need, a desire to protect and cherish and- and something, something else that they can’t quite put a name to, not yet, but they will.

They will.

 

 

Between shows, Molly pins down Caleb, pins down Nott, tests the water to make sure it’s okay and asks about the songs that bother him. And eventually, Nott snatches Molly’s cover list from their hand and goes through, crossing out problems. Molly copies the removed songs down onto a separate piece of paper and tucks it safely into their pocket, keeps it safe.

There’s been a few times where Caleb comes to the bus at night and tucks up on the sofa with Molly. _No work_ is the demand, no work, no talk, just grounding.  
Once, maybe twice, Caleb falls asleep on them and though it aches to sleep where they are, they refuse to move. They leave Caleb asleep on their shoulder, on their lap, curled into them in the shape of a comma, fists balled in Molly’s galaxy-print pyjama shirt. And they stroke his hair, like they would stroke a cat, and Caleb is hardly different in all justification.

Word of Molly spreads. Like fire in a bookshop with less destruction and more wonder, Molly draws bigger and bigger crowds, with all the tickets the Vaudreys couldn’t sell out evaporating with the news Molly would be opening.

Caleb tracks their tags, their mentions on twitter and for such a start-up they’re already nearing thirty thousand followers. It’s staggering, even Caleb couldn’t have predicted this, but Molly is- they’re alluring. Everything about them is perfect and drawing. It’s impossible not to look at them, when they’re on stage, when they walk past, when they sleep in Caleb’s car and he gets to pause in the traffic jams and wind his fingers in their hair, just a little.

And a month, a _month_ only passes, quickly and without pause or halt. There doesn’t seem to be time to breathe, between travel and performance and Caleb fastening a different flower into Molly’s hair every performance. And every time he brings them a new one, they seem on the borderline of tears and Caleb feels, lives for them putting their hand to his cheek and feeling their warmth, kissing the other cheek, leaving their mark.

Caleb becomes something like addicted to the sensation.

It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t last long. A month.

 

 

Molly comes in from their last show, their encore, exhausted and flops over Caleb’s legs on the sofa of the green room, crushing the velvet and tulle of their skirt under them.

“You were incredible.” Caleb tells them softly, working already on slipping the pins and clips out of their hair, setting the sunflower gently on the table beside them.

Molly groans into the corner of the sofa, face pressed into the side of the arm where it meets the cushion. It could be a thanks, it could just be a groan, Caleb pats the small of their back softly before going back to undoing their hair.

“That was it, Molly. The last show! Time to go home, now.”

“Tonight?” Molly’s voice is muffled by the sofa, too relaxed into Caleb’s touch to move, and Caleb chuckles a little,

“ _Ja_ , tonight. We’re not all that far, only a sixteen or so hour drive, including breaks, we can make it in a day if we set off tonight.”

“That’s fair, I s’pose. Almost done back there? I miss your face.”

Caleb swats their shoulder lazily, gives a soft snort,

“Just a moment.”

He takes out the last pin and unwinds their braided bun, combs his fingers through the waves left behind.

“All done.”

Molly turns over on Caleb’s legs, huffs half a sigh and tucks their arms under their head.

“I’m not wearing the skirt in the car.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to, your show outfits will be packed away and kept in the van with Jester.”

“Thank you, darling.”

“Speaking of- up you get, Molly- we should go and say goodbye to her. I need to collect Nott, and Jester will be _very_ angry if we don’t say goodbye, and I don’t particularly wish that upon myself _or_ Fjord.”

Molly chuckles as they pull themself to sit up, _mostly_ on Caleb’s lap and they sling their arms around his neck, laugh when he rolls his eyes.  
They pull, squeeze quick and let go, tumbling to the floor and scooting to their feet, stepping out of their skirt as they move and Caleb stands to take it from them, folds it carefully and hangs it over one arm, offers the other to Molly,

“To Jester?” He asks, and Molly takes his arm with an over-the-top curtsey,

“What a gentleman! To Jester!”

They both laugh their way out of the green room and scoot out to find Jester.

 

“Why can’t you come back with us, though? Saturday won’t be the same without you.” Nott frowns and fake-pouts, a trick she’s learned from Jester herself.

“It’s only a week, Nott!” Jester rebukes, her tone gentle, she mills around tidying away.

“It’s _forever_!” Nott protests, and Jester laughs her giggle, the tinkle, like a bell and Nott cant fight a smile.

“You’re learning from me!” Jester exclaims, “How dangerous!”

“Nott? Jester?” The door opens to Caleb and Molly, and Jester fusses over immediately to take Molly’s skirt from Caleb’s arm.

“You don’t fold these like that, Caleb! I’ll teach you how to do it right when I get home.” And she gives him a grin, turns to put it away,

“Oh,” Molly raises their eyebrows, “You’re not coming with us?”

“No, no, the next stylist got held up in Tal’Dorei, so they’re keeping me around for the next week until she gets back to Wildemount.” and she gives a spectacular roll of her eyes, making Molly laugh, just a soft snort.

“That’s a shame.”

“You’re going to be _alone_ , it’s going to be _boring_ without you!” Nott protests, up on the countertop now and perched precariously, her ears pricked up and eyes wide with earnest.

“Why don’t you stay with her, Nott?” Caleb offers, “The van has two seats, and though you can’t second, it may be a good idea that Jester does not travel home alone.”

Jester has gone very still, staring and darting her eyes between Nott and Caleb, chewing her lip in excited anticipation.

“But what about you?” Nott frowns her concern, “I don’t want to leave you alone!”

“I have Mollymauk for the journey back,” Caleb assures, pulling at the arm he has looped with Molly’s, “And when I get home, I have Frumpkin. At work, Bryce. I will be _fine_ , it’s a week. You should stay with Jester, keep her safe.”

Nott eyes Molly dubiously, and they make a show of sidling up to Caleb and curling around him as best they can,

“I’ll take care of him. Promise.”

Nott looks from them to Jester, nodding rapidly with wide and excited eyes.

“Fine.” Nott concedes, “A week.”

“Good.” Caleb slips away from Molly with a little pat and moves to Nott instead, she’s jumping at him before he’s even really in reach and he catches her with a huff that’s silenced quickly when she cuddles into him.

“I worry about you.” Nott tells him into his shoulder, and he shakes with quiet chuckles,

“If you didn’t, I don’t think we would have come this far.”

“I’m so proud of you, Caleb.” He feels her arms tense and tighten around his shoulders, “You’ve done so much, so well.”  
  
“I would be nothing without you, my friend.”

They lapse to a few more seconds of silent, tight hugging, and Caleb kneels to set her back on the ground, turns to hug Jester goodbye and finds her right there, waiting with her arms open.

“You take care of Molly! They’re delicate!”

“I’m not delicate.” Molly protests, and Jester chuckles,

“ _They’re delicate._ ” She emphasises, and Caleb sighs and smiles and lets go of her,

“I will look after them.” He promises, and when he looks to Molly, he finds them holding their hand to him expectantly,

“We should get moving, or we won’t get far tonight.”

If there’s a hint of sadness to their tone, the others don’t mention it. Caleb shuffles over to take their hand, and they both call their final goodbyes through the closing door, wander out of the stadium, to Caleb’s car on the other side.

“Ready to go home?” Caleb asks Molly as they split to opposite sides. Molly chuckles a little,

“Always. Never. All at the same time.”

They slip into the car and buckle up and Caleb taps Molly’s shoulder,

“A hug?” He asks, and his voice betrays none of his nerves, they rear up every time he asks, the fear of rejection more than the fear of asking but he doesn’t need to be afraid. Not with Molly.

Sweet, perfect Molly, who leans over and pulls their arms around him tight and warm and burrows their face into the shirt at his shoulder, pressing and evening their breathing.  
Even with the show, through the sweat and heat, Molly still smells of lavender and weed. Like that scent has become Caleb’s safety, just as they have.

And then they pick up and draw away, Caleb starts the car and they settle in to a long journey.

 

 

It’s late when they set off, past eleven at night and they hit the motorway just after the clock hits twelve. Molly and Caleb listen to music, they laugh and swap stories about Fjord and Jester and they look at one another in the midnight light from the street lamps and observe the way the shadows fall.

When Caleb is concentrating, Molly thinks he’s beautiful.

Well, Molly thinks that Caleb is beautiful regardless.

But the look of dedication, the focus in his bright blue eyes and the contrast of Caleb’s pale skin and the wine-coloured lipstick print on his cheek makes Molly’s heart pull and ache in wonderful, wonderful ways. That’s _their_ mark. It’s _their_ mark on Caleb, and he’s chosen to keep it there.

Caleb glances over at Molly, watching him, eyes on _him_ , looking like they- like they care.  
And he knows that they do.  
They _also_ look like they’re ready to fall asleep at any given moment, so he searches for the first lay-by and pulls in, yawning.  
The clock says it’s almost three in the morning.

“I can take the first driving shift when we get up, if you want.” Molly offers, stretching, they both climb out of the car for a quick piss and some cramp-repellant.

Caleb eyes Molly dubiously,

“You can drive?”

“Yeah?” Molly frowns their confusion, “Got my license, I have my own car and all that, I’m just too broke to fuel it, so I walk places. Thought you knew?”

“I- I- _nein_ , I was unaware, I’m sorry. But I would appreciate that, I have not had a second and my brain may implode if I think about driving again.”

Molly chuckles and shuffles up to him, kisses his cheek over the mark they’ve already left.

“Can’t have that, now, can we darling? Back in a second, I need to piss something fierce.”

And they’re gone. Off into the sparse treeline and Caleb sighs and turns to the car, leans on it whilst he waits for them to get back so that he can go.

 

They settle into the car, Molly on the driver’s side, both tucked up in layers of Caleb’s own blankets with the sound of a light rain beginning on the roof.

“Night, Caleb.” Molly murmurs, tucked against the window.

“Goodnight, Molly.” and his reply is lost, Molly is already asleep. Caleb is exhausted, but he spends a few moments studying the way Molly has the blankets drawn up just under their nose, curled, and he smiles at how sweet and innocent they look.  
And then he closes his eyes, and lets himself fall asleep, too.

 

Molly lets Caleb sleep in the morning.  
They’re a steady driver and they know it, when they want to be, so they just buckle him up and press a light, light kiss to his forehead, they draw their hand to his cheek just to feel the warmth of his skin and assure themself that Caleb is alive.

He’s alive. He’s breathing. They aren’t alone.

They sit back in the seat and pull out of the lay-by, and keeping their eyes off of their manager is a chore and a half but they focus on the road and _drive_ .   
Caleb is quiet when he wakes up. The car is moving, he can feel the sensation of it vibrating under him, and when he opens his eyes slowly against the daylight, Molly is concentrating on the road.

He wonders if he has this same focus to him, the drive and singularity and the draw and determination of their eyes. They’re pretty, always, but different like this and Caleb didn’t realise this series of emotions could re-start like this but it keeps happening, and he’s yet to put a name to it.

Molly glances away and _oops_ , his time is up.

“Good morning, darling.” Molly beams, reaches out to pat at Caleb’s face with their fingertips.

“Morning, Molly.” Caleb yawns and straightens, “How long have you been driving?”

“Couple of hours, my- not- not long.”

Molly’s odd cut makes Caleb’s head twitch in confusion, but he tries to let it go. It more ends up being stored, but that’s a problem for later.

“When are we due back?”

“Well, that depends on whether or not the traffic clears up before we get to Zadash.” Molly gives him a smile that seems to be more of a grimace, “The radio says there’s been some sinkhole in the main streets, so traffic into and around the city is backed up by about three miles.”  
Caleb whistles his shock.

“That is what you get for having a walled city with four entrances and exits, I suppose.”

“Yeah. If the problem isn’t sorted soon, radio says it’ll be worse. By normal standards, though, about six.”

Caleb huffs with resignation in every note, folds his arms.

“Frumpkin is going to be _angry_.”

“Who’s Frumpkin?”

Caleb looks at Molly in shock, like he’s startled, their eyes are on the road but glance to him every now and then in his silence,

“Frumpkin is- is my cat. If we get in any later than six, I will have to stop at home before I take you back, the neighbour- Nila- went away today, she isn’t able to feed him his evening meal. He will shred my sofa.”

“I didn’t know you had a _cat!_ ” Molly coos, “If we have to stop in, I want to come say hi!”

“Of course, Frumpkin will appreciate the attention.”

 

Traffic does not, it happens, let up. It gets _worse_ , they sit in a jam for hours outside of Zadash, going so far as to switch drivers in the middle of the road. This earns them a few honked horns, naturally, but it isn’t like they’re _going_ anywhere.  
It’s pitch black, eight thirty when they get to Caleb’s apartment block.  
  
“He will already have chewed his way through half an arm, most likely.” Caleb grimaces as they climb out of the car and waits for Molly to rush around and link their arms before he heads upstairs.

He lives on the fourth floor and the elevator always seems to be out of order, how he’s unfit with all these stairs he feels he’ll never know, they come to his door panting and puffing for breath and Caleb’s tired hands shake so hard he has trouble opening the door.  
But open it he does. The lights go on, and Caleb sees in the doorway to the main room, a very angry-looking tabby cat, puffed up and already mewing at him indignantly.

“I swear that you are a fey creature.” Caleb huffs, slips from Molly’s arm and strides on past Frumpkin, leaves his friend to close the door behind them.

“Oh, how _sweet!_ ” Molly comes closer and crouches, holding his hand out to Frumpkin and looking at an undetermined point a decent distance above the cat’s head, “Hey, kitty.”

Frumpkin makes a noise of soft surprise and turns a circle, pauses to look at Caleb pulling his food from the cupboard before he trots to Molly and bumps against their hand. Molly coos and scratches gently at Frumpkin’s head as he winds around their ankles and bats at their swaying tail.

“ _Ja_ , he is the sweetest hellspawn I have ever met.” Caleb agrees from the kitchen, and there’s a clatter of metal on ceramic that has Frumpkin skittering through to him, and a moment later, Caleb laughs delightedly.

“You would think that he has never been fed.”

Molly leans on the door jamb.

“He’s adorable. Like father like… cat son.” They raise their eyebrows at Caleb with a smirk, but it meets a look of only confusion,

“I have never met Frumpkin’s father.” He tells Molly seriously, “He was a rescue. He had been caught in a fire and his previous owners died, so we took him in.”

“I- okay. That’s… that’s so sweet, but I meant you, Caleb. I was implying that you’re the cat dad.”

“Oh.” Caleb answers, voice small, and Molly sees a flush creep onto his cheeks. It’s so _sweet_ , they almost forget themself in their space as they stare with the softest smile on their face that they can ever remember having.

“Fuck!” Caleb looks up suddenly, startling Molly and Frumpkin both. They each find their tails upright, straight, tense and staring at Caleb.  
  
Frumpkin relaxes and goes back to his food.   
  
“What’s wrong, Caleb?”

“Getting you across town is going to be a chore.” Caleb mutters, pulls to the window to check the traffic, and Molly shrugs,

“I can walk.”

Caleb turns. His expression is horrified, scandalised, like the very idea is disgusting to him.

“It’s a forty-five minute walk to your apartment.” Caleb tells them, “It is not safe.”

Molly shrugs,

“It’s the only option, I don’t want to put you through that traffic again.”

“It is _not_.” Caleb protests, “You can- you can stay here. I’ll set the sofa-bed up for you.”

Molly is quiet for a moment.

“Do you not worry? About what people say about you? About _us_?”

“There are rumours at the office. I don’t much mind them.” Caleb shrugs, and comes over to Molly’s side, eyes on their hands where they play with their bracelets. He waits a moment, to see if Molly will reply, and when they don’t he adds, “If you want to go home, I will drive you. But if you want to stay, that is okay. I don’t mind, and if it bothers you that people may talk, I can shut it down, or we do not need to tell anyone. Anything for you.”

Molly is silent, just shuffles closer and sets their chin on Caleb’s shoulder, fiddling with their bracelets around Caleb’s torso. It’s not quite a hug, but Caleb puts one arm around them anyway.

“So, are you wanting to stay, or are we going?”

“I’ll stay.” Molly says quietly, Caleb more feels it than he hears it and he squeezes Molly gently before drawing away.

“I’ll set the bed up for you.” He tells them, and shuffles off to collect blankets. Molly moves to Frumpkin, slips down the counter to sit on the tile floor and smiles when the cat finishes cleaning his face and curls up onto Molly’s lap instead, purring contentedly.

“Hey, sweet thing.” Molly murmurs to the cat, scritches his head a little as Caleb potters about setting up the bed for them. A quilt, a blanket, two pillows, Caleb goes and digs out a sleep-worthy shirt that isn’t too ratty for them and comes to lean on the counter, watching Molly intently. They’re murmuring softly to Frumpkin, words Caleb can’t make out, and Frumpkin is purring enthusiastically.

Until Caleb gives a soft tongue click, and Frumpkin jumps up, heads off to his own little bed and Molly tilts their head back to meet Caleb’s eyes.

“I was enjoying your cat.”

“You will enjoy bed, too.” Caleb smiles down at them, leaning on his folded arms atop the counter and Molly can’t help but think how wonderful Caleb looks like this. Haloed by the kitchen light, his hair falling in wavy curtains and eyes darkened by the shadow but wearing a wonderful, beautiful smile, his eyes tired and soft and something…

Something in Molly’s head _clicks_ , almost audibly to themself.

And all of a sudden, it’s as the world makes _sense_ , everything in the universe has finally aligned and they _understand_ now.

Their expression must fall, or slacken from their smile, because Caleb comes around the counter quickly to their side and crouches beside them. He talks, and they hear it like they’re underwater, deep, deep underwater,

“Molly? Are you okay?”

Molly turns, slowly, dragged under, staggered by their realisation.

_They’re in love with Caleb._

Caleb, who is still watching them, concern writhing in his eyes and Molly blinks themself awake.

“I’m- yeah. I’m fine.”

Caleb pushes the loose hair back from their face and sets his hand to their forehead gently,

“Are you sure? You don’t look well.”

“Just- um. A bit of brain weird.”

  
_Something unfurling in their chest. Sweet, soft, a flower that they can feel coming to blossom, with a deep need, a desire, to protect. And to cherish._

_And to love._

  
They’ve put a name to it.

Caleb grimaces,  
“I know the feeling, friend. Come on, I’m sure we can find something to do to chase it off before we sleep.” and he stands, offers his hand and Molly could think of _many, many things_ to do to chase it off, and not all of them, stunningly, involve sex.

But only one of them is really acceptable.

They let Caleb drag them up and over to the sofa bed, drowned now in pillows and quilts and they both sit with a flump, Caleb flickers through channels on the TV and Molly-

Molly crawls closer and nudges under Caleb’s arm, like a dog might, they press the side of their face to his shoulder and essentially curl up against him and Caleb looks down in vague shock.

“I- this will work, I suppose.”

And he settles his arm lightly around Molly’s shoulders before deciding on the kids channel on TV, an old cartoon that they only rerun at night.

 

They spend about an hour there. Molly loosens, relaxes a little but doesn’t move much from their position, and Caleb draws patterns against their shoulder without thinking about it, just to keep his hands busy. But eventually, he yawns a little too loudly, and decides it’s time to go to bed.

“I will see you in the morning.” He tells Molly gently as he pulls away, and Molly fights not to chase his warmth.

They let him pace a way a little before it bubbles up again,

“Caleb.” They call after him in a whisper, “Thank you.”

Caleb looks over his shoulder and smiles at them silently, and then he’s gone and leaves Molly to tuck themself into their blankets, swathing themself in the things. They smell of laundry detergent, not of Caleb, and- well, that’s just disappointing.

 

Caleb sits on his bed and pushes his face into his hands, groaning gently, quietly, so Molly doesn’t hear.  
Molly’s little ear points _haunt_ him. He’s only made it worse by tucking their hair back, getting to brush his fingers over them and feeling how soft their skin is, how stiff it is, and how much Caleb just wants to gently put it in his mouth. Why! What the fuck!   
  
“Ugh.”

Caleb flumps face-first into his pillows and lays there for a moment. And then he gets back up and strips off to change into a second, softer shirt and loose pants.  
He climbs into his bed and stares at the ceiling.  
Every time he tries to close his eyes, he sees himself brushing his thumb over Molly’s ears and _wants to do it again_. His heart keeps flickering in his chest. Like a hummingbird.

The time slips by. About two hours of Caleb tossing, turning, and eventually he needs a drink, he might as well pee, so he creeps out of bed and into the main room-come-kitchen.

The room is dimly lit by moonlight through the kitchen window, Caleb is silent as he comes into the kitchen and he sees, in Molly’s space, they’re sitting up in a ball rocking gently back and forward.

“Molly?” Caleb whispers to the dark, and Molly whips up, their hair glints in the dim light and their eyes catch his, bright red and wide.

“Caleb?” they’re on their feet and stumbling over to him, and he almost smiles at them, in his shirt, no pants, their tail high behind them and then they’re wrapping around him tight, terrifyingly tight, crushing, the tight that comes from panic and Caleb makes soft sounds of reassurance as he crushes them right back.

“What’s wrong?” Caleb murmurs, close to their ear, “What’s happened?”

“I- I just-”

A hiccup and Caleb realises they’re sobbing, Caleb sways them gently and pulls them up, closer,

“It’s okay. Let’s get some water, and sit down, and then you can tell me.

Molly stays close, clinging to him as he fills two smaller glasses with water and takes them back to the sofa, sits them both down and puts an arm around Molly’s waist, pulls them tight as they sip their way through their drinks.

“What’s wrong, Molly?” Caleb asks, voice quiet in the soft city noise, and Molly cuddles closer to him,

“I have- I’m paranoid,” They stumble, voice thick, “that whilst I’m asleep, the rest of the world will disappear. Or that I’ve imagined everything. Or that I- I died, that I’m the only one left, that I’m- I’m alone. I can’t _sleep_ by myself, it’s why I sleep with Fjord, it was okay on the bus because Dean was just across the room and I could see him but- I don’t want to be alone. I can’t be alone, Caleb, I don’t want to be the last one-”

They break into soft tears and Caleb stares at the top of their shaking head.  
He sets his glass on the floor and gently, carefully cups Molly’s jaw, tilts their face up and brushes his thumb against the tears.

“It’s okay.” Caleb assures, and leans in, gently, “It’s alright.”

He presses his lips to Molly’s forehead and feels them shudder, shake, and relax into the touch.

They stay put for a minute or two, breathing, Caleb resting his face to Molly’s forehead and stroking their cheek with his thumb rhythmically.

“Come on.” Caleb pulls his arm from around them, squeezes their leg and waits for them to pull their arm from him so he can take their hand, “Come through to my room, you can stay with me.”

“Are you sure?” Molly swipes the back of their other hand across their eyes, smudges the eyeliner they haven’t managed to clean. “I don’t- I can- I don’t have to sleep.”

“Don’t be an idiot.” Caleb chides and stands, pulling them, “Come on.”

Molly stands, lets Caleb pull them along and stares at the back of his head as he moves, they come into Caleb’s room and Molly is so tired that they don’t even look around. They both collapse to Caleb’s bed, Caleb tucks Molly in and presses their backs together.  
He feels Molly pattering at his side, and reaches back, laces his fingers with theirs and squeezes.

“Thank you, Caleb.” Molly murmurs, and Caleb smiles into the darkness.

“Go to sleep.”

They obey, fall away, and Caleb finds himself falling right after them.


	8. Lovely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is:  
> [Lovely - Twenty One Pilots](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3C-2xCuJZYQ)
> 
> “I’m a fool in the shape of a tiefling.”

Morning comes.

Caleb’s phone buzzes on the bedside table. A few moments later, Molly’s jingles.  
Buzz buzz.   
_Jingle_.

Caleb groans and leans over Molly- face down in his pillow- to grab his phone, presses his chest to Molly’s back to steady himself and pulls the phone back.

“What is it?” Molly grumbles into the pillow, assuming quite rightly that for such a short succession to both of them, it must be work.

 

 **FROM: Bryce**   
Sorry to disturb you so early, Caleb, but I need you and Molly in this morning to discuss the tour.

 **FROM: Bryce** **  
** Lunchtime would be fine, too. There’s been a lot of development, I want you to get a head start on Mollymauk’s career.

 

“We need to go to work.” Caleb groans, and is matched by Molly, who finally pulls their head from his pillows to squint at him,

“Seriously?”

“That’s what Bryce has said.”

Molly makes soft grumbling noises and turns to lean their head on his shoulder, skims over the texts.

“Sounds… promising?” Molly’s voice is more of a question and Caleb chuckles, pats at their shoulder with one hand,

“It’s good. It is a good thing.”

“We should get up, then. Get dressed. _Fuck_ , I have no clean clothes.”

“You can borrow one of my shirts.” Caleb sits up and drags the covers back with in, to a protesting yelp from Molly.

They mill about Caleb’s room to dress. Caleb first throws one of his button-ups to Molly, one of the ones with a slimmer cut, and pulls one out for himself, they both strip down in silence.

Only once he’s shirtless does Caleb realise that Molly is… here. In the room. Physically.  
  
“ _Sheiße._ ” He mutters, and turns his back. It’s not much better, there’s scars there, too, but not- not from surgery.

Molly looks up.

“Sweetheart, I know. Don’t worry.”

And their focus is back on their shirt buttons, which they can’t quite seem to get the hang of. There’s something different, they just don’t know what.

“Fuck!” They add to the silence, “What is _wrong_ with these things?”

Caleb, staring over his shoulder with wide, shocked eyes, shakes it and comes to kneel in front of them instead, gently batting their hands away and fastening the buttons for them,

“It is technically a woman’s shirt, so the buttons are the opposite side.”

“Ah, that’ll be it.” Molly agrees, but distantly. Caleb is kneeling in front of them, the focus on his face this time directed at Molly themself and they fight the urge to tangle their hands in his hair and kiss him.

Oh, shit.  
That’s a _dangerous_ line of thought, with Caleb in the position he is, and Molly squeezes their eyes closed and thinks of anything other than Caleb’s hands against their chest.

“Done.” Caleb taps the skin of their thigh gently, “It’s okay, it’s not a big deal.”

“Thank you.” Molly responds automatically, only opening their eyes when they feel Caleb stand.

And then they stand after him in a rush, completely underestimating just how close they would be and ends up near nose-to-nose with him, their hands already finding Caleb’s hips and they give a noise like a squeak of shock.

“Molly?” Caleb questions, and Molly’s head _spins_ , the _world_ spins around them with the all-consuming desire to _kiss him_.

They’re resigned to their fate. This is just what it’s going to be like to be in love with Caleb.  
They feel themself smile and squish Caleb’s skin gently,

“You’re really beautiful, Caleb, you know?”

“Um.” Caleb replies.

And Molly comes back to themself, lets go and sits down,

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

 _Get a fucking grip, Tealeaf._

Caleb shuffles away awkwardly to pull his shirt on, doesn’t make any noise, doesn’t talk, just… dresses in awkward silence whilst Molly silently berates themself in the background.

 

It takes them about half an hour to be work-ready. Molly leads the way down the stairs and Caleb’s brain is torn, half swirling in confusion at- at that _moment_ , he still can’t tell if it was real or not. The other half is completely smitten with the way that Molly looks in Caleb’s shirt.   
He’d bought it on recommendation of Jester, dark red with a little cactus embroidered on the front pocket. He’s personally only ever worn it once. He doesn’t suit red.  
But Molly does.

They wander on down to Caleb’s car in quiet; the occasional casual comment about the weather, how the traffic is better, what they think Bryce wants and when they pull up and climb out, Molly catches Caleb’s wrist.

“It- it came out kind of weird.” They admit, “But you are beautiful.”

Caleb stares at them, blinking in silence for a few long seconds before he shakes his wrist out of their grip and takes their hand instead. He can’t find, formulate the words for them, to thank them, to disagree but he threads his fingers through theirs and pulls them along, up to Bryce’s office, making a stop at the staff room for coffee along the way.

 

 

Bryce is in their office when Caleb knocks, and Molly feels him slip their hands apart as they enter and sit, hurts at the loss but knows they can’t say anything without being questioned. They don’t want to be questioned.

If they tell Caleb that they love him, they’re certain that he’ll leave.  
They really don’t want to be alone.  
They both sit themselves down across from Bryce and find them grinning, bright and wide.

“Have you been keeping up to date on Twitter?” they ask.

“No.” Molly and Caleb both reply in unison, and share a glance,

“We’ve been flat out. I’ve only really been putting out tweets about when I’ll be performing, and where.” Molly offers, and Caleb nods slowly,

“I do not check Twitter at all.”

“Well then, I’m glad to be the one to inform you- Mollymauk, you’re a _star_ . You’ve trended three times on Twitter in Hupperdook, Felderwin, _and_ Trostenwald.”

Caleb makes a noise of interest,

“Trostenwald is a good place to be recognised.”

Bryce nods, still grinning,  
  
“There’s videos of your live shows on YouTube, they have tens of thousands of views. Some of the more popular ones are in the hundred-thousands! That performance of _Midas_ with the red suit and skirt, the one with the- the- poinsettia!”  
  
Molly reaches over and squishes Caleb’s arm with mouthed thanks. Caleb smiles back at them, and sees Bryce from the corner of his eye, their eyes darting between the two of them.

“Anyway,” they speak, draw Caleb and Molly’s attentions, “With all this popularity and Caleb here at your side, Mollymauk, I want you to put out a full album in the next month or so. I have you booked in for sessions at the recording studio, since I know you already have some songs written. _And_ I’m looking into a budget for a music video, though if you’re going for _Midas_ , it will definitely be approved for more than near any of your other songs. It seems to be your most popular song.”

“I have ideas for that!” Molly leans across the table, “Like a- a wizard, that transmutes everything that he touches without meaning to, and ends up lonely because he turns all his friends to cold precious metal-”

Bryce holds up a hand,

“Discuss it with Caleb. Any videos will have to wait for Jester to come back, as she’s the only stylist that Caleb can really work with, but I’ll look into getting a budget. Anything that you have to report back?”

“Nothing of import.” Caleb inclines his head, “Nott stayed on the tour with Jester whilst she’s out there, so I won’t be in without Molly until she’s back.”

“Yes, she text me about it last night.” there’s something in Bryce’s pale eyes, dancing along their cocked smile, running fingers up Caleb’s back, “But if that’s all, you’re free to go. Check in with me before the end of the day if you’re still in, Caleb, just on the budget.”

“I will do.” Caleb stands and offers a hand to Bryce, “Thank you.”

Bryce stands and shakes,

“No problem. Good luck, you two.”

Caleb pats at Molly’s shoulder with the dismissal, and the two of them trail out of the office.

“Heading home?” Caleb asks Molly as they pace their way down the stairs, and Molly shrugs,

“Fjord’s at work. But I- I should, so I can get this washed and returned to you.” And they pinch at the shirt. Caleb eyes them, smiling,

  
“You can keep it, if you like.” and watches their face turn shocked, “It- it suits you. You look- pretty.”

It’s all Molly can do not to kiss him there and then, but now that’s becoming a common feeling. They feel their face heating, the blush creeping across their cheeks, the tips of their ears, and Caleb’s face shifts.

“Oh,” he murmurs, watching the red-violet splodge its way across Molly’s face, “That is cute.”

Molly scrabbles for their personality, leans forward a little,

“Why, mister Caleb!” They exclaim in a stage whisper, “Sharing a bed is one thing, flirting is something else entirely!”

Caleb’s eyes widen,

“Was- was I flirting? I’m- shit, sorry, Molly.”

And he’s off, power walking down the stairs and Molly curses themself as they chase him,

“No! Wait! Caleb! You’re not really flirting- darling, _please_ keep complimenting me, it’s so wonderful when it comes from you.”

That has Caleb stuttering, slowing so Molly can catch up,

“From me?” His tone is confused, “But I am not special.”

“You are to me, love.” Molly presses gently, “You and your opinion are incredibly dear to my heart.”

Caleb snorts,

“You make bad choices.”

But he’s smiling, and Molly will take that as enough.  
They trail Caleb out to the parking lot where he looks them over,

“Do you want a ride home?”

“If it’s not too much trouble.” Molly smiles awkwardly, guiltily, and Caleb shuffles over to bump at them gently,

“Time spent with you is never too much trouble. I enjoy your company.”

Molly laughs, soft and warm and puts an arm around his shoulders as they make their way to his car,

“I’m glad, I was beginning to think this was one-sided. That was a joke, by the way, sweetheart.” The last is tacked on at Caleb’s flicker of panic, “I know you care about me. I trust you.”

Caleb huffs and presses against their side before they split apart and move to opposite sides of the car.  
Molly watches Caleb.

They can’t help thinking about just how wonderful it would be to kiss him. Not just as a one time thing, but how it would be, how it would feel to be able to just… kiss him, or cuddle him, or love him, without it being a _thing_ , a big deal, important, without having to worry about if it’s a boundary overstepped, without having to worry about whether or not their next action will cause Caleb to ditch them, finally scared off.

That’s a problem for another day.

They climb into the car and Caleb offers his hand for a quick squish, and Molly takes it, holds his hand as they lean across to him and press a kiss to his cheek.  
_They’re only so strong.  
_ They let go as they draw away and Caleb’s hand, instinctively, goes to press to his cheek where Molly has kissed. He flickers his eyes to Molly’s face and lingers only a moment before he looks away again.

“You are not wearing lipstick today.”

“No, I didn’t keep any on me on the tour.” Molly smiles awkwardly, “Doesn’t leave a mark, at least.”

“That’s a shame.” Caleb murmurs, and goes about pulling the car to life, as though he _hasn’t_ just stilled Molly’s heart in their chest.

 

They pull up outside Molly’s apartment and murmur thanks as they climb out of the car,

“I’ll see you Friday?” Caleb leans over, “Bryce has the recording studio booked from two ‘til six, I know you have a few songs ready so any will do.”

“Friday.” Molly affirms, smiling through the door, “See you soon, darling.”

“Goodbye, _Liebling._ ” Caleb manages to slip through the door just before it closes, and he waits until Molly is safely inside before he drives away.

 

 

They share a few phone calls over the next day. Caleb doesn’t tell Molly how rare it is for him to take or make calls. He doesn’t tell them how special they are.  
Caleb takes notes, and his boxes are a little less structured than they once were, but he finds it doesn’t bother him.

Molly has decided that they want to cut some of the material that they already have, switch it out for something better. They have three new songs completely written, two of those have musical notation, and a further three are almost finished.

“I have an idea for a final song, too.” Their voice crackles down the phone and Caleb smiles on his bed, laid back with his hair splayed about him in a sunburst,

“What idea?”

“I’ll show you my notes and scribbles on Friday. How about lunch?”

“Lunch?”

“Yeah, lunch. At- oh, say Caduceus’ Tea Shop, I know you’ve missed him.”

“I have _not._ ” Caleb lies, voice indignant, and when Molly laughs at him it feels like a knot in his chest relaxes and softens.

“You have, darling.” And Molly’s teasing is gone, replaced with something sweet and soft, “It’s sweet.”

“Why do you call me those things?” Caleb blurts before he can think, “Things like _sweetheart_ , and _darling_?”

“Because,” Caleb can hear the shift of fabric and assumes, quite rightly, that Molly has shrugged, “I care about you. A lot. And I want a way to remind you that I care, an obvious way that means that other people know, too. And outside of draping myself across you like a cloak, the pet names are the most effective and efficient way.” Molly, on the other end of the phone, pauses to smile and then adds, “But I can stop, if they make you uncomfortable.”  
  
“No!” Caleb exclaims, “No, no, I like them. They’re- they make me- I don’t know. But don’t stop.”

“Anything for you, my love.” Molly purrs, and Caleb sighs contentedly, and melts into his bedsheets.

“I miss you.” Caleb admits, “I know it’s- it’s stupid, but-”

“It’s not stupid. I miss you too.” Molly interrupts him, and Caleb can hear the soft smile in their voice, “I’m so glad that I have you.”

Caleb gives a soft, breathy laugh and closes his eyes.  
This isn’t a normal conversation between client and manager.  
Caleb doesn’t care.

“Anyway, my love, I should probably go and collect Fjord from work.” Caleb hears the soft grunt of Molly sitting up, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.” Caleb says back, he aches for the loss of Molly as the line goes dead and he lays staring at the ceiling, spinning inside and he whistles for Frumpkin just for the company of it.

Frumpkin hops up to Caleb’s bed mewling and settles in a little cat loaf on his chest, purring happily. Caleb scritches softly behind Frumpkin’s ears.

“What have I gotten myself into, hm?” Caleb hums at Frumpkin, and is rewarded with a slow blink that he reciprocates.

“ _Ja_ , that is about the answer that I expected.”

And he softens himself there and waits for sleep to come.

 

He’s so glad to see Molly the next day that he close to throws himself into their arms, and only cuddles _tighter_ when they laugh softly in his ear,

“This is a very nice welcome.”

Caleb can’t and won’t try to find words. He just snuggles his face against Molly’s neck and holds there, surrounded in the scent of lavender candles.  
They’re meeting outside of Caduceus’ place today, heading into work later on but for now, when the weather is dry and… not cold, so it’s fine, it’s nice, just to stand here and cuddle.

Their grips soften quickly, less of a hug and more of a hold, Molly’s arms looped around the small of Caleb’s back in _public_ , where anyone could see.   
Molly is only marginally taller, maybe an inch and a half, but it feels like more with the way Caleb finds himself hunching a little.

“Ready to go on, sweetheart?”

“ _Ja_ , let’s go and get some lunch.” Caleb draws away and heads in, speaking over his shoulder, “Did you bring your notes?” 

“Yes! I have the finished ones, but I’m more interested on getting your feedback on a first draft.” Molly vibrates in their excitement. Caleb chuckles warmly,

“Wait until we have our tea and our food, and we’ll get to it.” he smiles at Molly, and Molly feels themself fall in love with him all over again.

They wonder briefly if the new song is going to be obvious. As if the video for _Midas_ wasn’t already. They’ll have to wait and find out, they stand at Caleb’s shoulder with a hand light on his hip as he orders for the both of them, and Caleb goes the roundabout way to tell Caduceus that he’d missed his company when he was away on tour.

“I think the shop missed you, too, Caleb.” Clay smiles wide, his slow, lax voice fills the room with a soft warmth, “I certainly did.”

Caleb splutters quietly and looks at the desk, and that’s where the conversation slips away and they sit and wait for their food and drink to be ready.

Molly pulls out a small pile of notes.

“Alright,” They murmur, sifting through, “What I want for this album is- like a story? Kind of like mine. From my old stuff about being sad and lonely, through hope, into… this.”

And they produce the scribbly little sheet of paper with the lyrics to their newest song, Caleb takes it from them gently and reads it over, breath catching in his throat.  
Molly watches him nervously, twisting and fiddling with their bracelets whilst Caleb reads, worry threading them.

Caleb is… shocked.

It’s a love song. Molly’s words are beautiful and enchanting, speaking of patience and understanding, and a connection, fear of loss in a different way. How everything is new and terrifying, and wonderful.

“This is beautiful, Molly.” Caleb’s tone is awed, and Molly’s shoulders relax immediately, they smile small and soft,

“Thank you.”

“Where did you find the inspiration for this?” Caleb skims it again, “Whatever it is, it must be incredible.”

“They are.” Molly agrees, affectionate eyes locked on Caleb’s hair, their heart swells and aches.

And Caleb, on quite the opposite, feels something flare unpleasantly in his chest. Somewhere between his spine and sternum, a green, flickering flame that slowly begins to lick its way around his spine, creeping up his neck.  
A thought occurs to him. He gets the feeling it was most likely intended as intrusive, a gift from one of his many mental problems, but he catches and clings to it like the neck of a poisonous snake, has it spitting just above his hand.

“What if… we used this as your image?” He says quietly, and Molly’s expression shifts from soft to confused, Caleb lifts his head to meet his eyes,

“What image?”

“For marketing.” Caleb tells them, tone of business, “If we- we- we present you as this… romantic idol, have you… flirt,” he winces at the flare in the back of his head, “flirt with your fans. You have a naturally alluring personality and appearance, and I have firsthand experience of your… flirting.”

It’s Molly’s turn to wince,

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Caleb meets their eyes with a flicker of his old self before he disappears again, “ _Ja_ , so if we push your instagram, add more selfies, have you do follow events on certain days…”

Molly fades into the muttered plans, watching Caleb’s focus drift away, but it isn’t the good, sweet focus that Molly adores on him. This is driven and bitter and Molly reaches out, gently, presses two fingers under Caleb’s chin and tilts his head up. The expression on his face is almost angry, hollow when he meets Molly’s eyes.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” Molly frowns their concern, battling off the fear and worry in their heart, “This is _eerily_ reminiscent of the week I had that meeting.”

Caleb’s face clears a little, to shame and guilt instead of the hollow anger and he stands and pulls his chair around to Molly’s side, snuggles against their side a little.

“I’m sorry.” He tells them, and they turn and press a warm, soft kiss to the top of his head.

“It’s alright, sweetheart, it’s alright. Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

“No.” Caleb replies quickly, and pushes closer.

“Okay.” Molly kisses Caleb’s hair again and rests their face there, breathing the sweet smell of books and leather and _Caleb_ in silence whilst they wait for Clay to bring them their order.

 

“So, what do you think of that marketing idea?” Caleb leads the two of them to the recording studio, and Molly chews their lip a little,

“It- if you think it’s a good idea, I defer to your will.”

“But would you be comfortable with it?” Caleb pauses them to study Molly’s face, searching, “If you’re not, I’ll find something else.”

“No, it’s fine. I can do it- it- it doesn’t mean anything, right? It doesn’t have to mean anything? I don’t _actually_ have to do shit like sleep around?”

“No, of course not.” Caleb is aghast at the thought, “Nothing you don’t want to do. And by- by that song, the love song, I would assume that you already have a- a- vested interest. In someone.”

Not as obvious as they thought, then, Molly supposes. They loop an arm through Caleb’s.

“I do.” They tell him softly, “It wasn’t a _planned_ thing, I didn’t mean to but- all of those plans I had to be famous and free, they don’t matter any more.”

Caleb keeps his eyes fixed firmly ahead, the bright green flame charring the back of his throat- if he opened his mouth, he’s sure smoke would come out.

“I could be _free_ ,” Molly makes air quotes with their free hand, “If I wanted to be. I don’t know. I’ve only recently realised I have feelings, maybe it will change.”

“That is- that is sweet, Mollymauk.”

No smoke comes out.

Molly bites their tongue on the urge to tell Caleb who they mean. Not yet.  
They do lean over and kiss the side of Caleb’s head, though, just a little light bump as they make their way up the last steps and into the recording studio.

 

Molly records their way through one of their complete songs, and Caleb watches from behind the sound tech, fidgeting anxiously.

 

**TO: Bryce**

I forgot to come in about the budget on Wednesday, but I have a marketing strategy to pitch for you. Will you still be here later?

 

**  
FROM: Bryce**

It’s alright, it was a long day. If you’re in the studio now, I’ll drop in, if that works?

  


**TO: Bryce**

That should be fine. See you soon.

 

Caleb settles back to watch Molly sing and smiles at them when they glance at him through the glass. They smile back around their words.  
Caleb’s little green flame flickers and dies down with Molly’s attention on him. It’s less painful, and Caleb _likes_ that. Needs more.

Bryce comes in.

“Caleb.” they greet, and pull a chair up beside him. The two of them sit side-by-side for a while, silent as they watch Molly take direction.

“They are _magnificent,_ aren’t they?” Bryce murmurs, and Caleb feels that flame flicker back to life and curl slowly around his spine.

“They are.” He agrees, instead.

“So we’ve assessed a budget for their music video. Corporate is willing to drop up to fifteen thousand on it.”

“ _Fifteen thousand_.” Caleb repeats in awe, “That’s _so much_.”

“It’s a chunk over what’s needed.” Bryce smiles, Caleb catches sight out of the corner of his eye, “Whatever they don’t use for the video, they can… repurpose.”

“What for?” Caleb is genuinely confused, Bryce chuckles softly,

“I’m sure you’ll see soon.”

Caleb would be nervous, if that had come from anyone but Bryce. But he trusts them with everything that he is, he trusts them inherently, and he trusts that they would never do anything to hurt him. So he relaxes, a little, and watches Bryce instead of Molly, dulling the burn in his chest.  
Bryce has been a grounding presence to him for a long while. It’s hard not to grow to trust someone that fights your corner as hard as Bryce fights for him, going toe-to-toe with Kosh and the other higher-ups to keep Caleb happy and comfortable and doing what he does best.

Bryce leans forward a little, resting their arms on their knees and nodding along with the sound engineer.   
Their hair has gotten longer lately. They’ve stopped trimming it down to keep around their shoulders, instead, they’ve let it grow out to their mid-back, light and loose and pale in the dim filter light of the studio.

In the sound booth, Molly sets the headphones on their peg and stands, brushing themself down and coming toward them, out of the booth.

“You forgot to give him Fjord’s papers.” is the first thing out of Bryce’s mouth, and Molly gapes and smacks their forehead,

“I’m a fool in the shape of a tiefling.”

And whilst Bryce laughs and Caleb chuckles quietly, they head for their bag and pull out a green binder with a wad of papers in it. And they shuffle over, hand it to Caleb with a bright grin, crouching in front of him and Bryce,

“I meant to give you them earlier. Fjord’s sorted everything, got you an in, all that stuff. All you need to do is fill out some forms in here,” Molly taps the binder, “And send them in.”

They set their hand on Caleb’s knee as he opens the binder and flickers through the papers, his eyes widening with each sheet.

They’re the charity registration and declaration papers. He’s been talking with Fjord about it on and off, but he hadn’t expected- so quickly!

Caleb sets the papers down, careful despite the build-up in his chest, and as soon as they’re safely out of the way he takes Molly’s smiling face in his hands and pulls, scattering kisses across their forehead, their horns, their hair, and Molly _giggles_ in his hands, bracing themself against his legs so they don’t fall and Bryce, beside them still, laughs along.

“You knew, too.” Caleb whips to Bryce, still holding Molly’s face and completely missing the way that they press into his touch. Bryce nods, bubbling with little laughs and Caleb gently lets go of Molly to turn to Bryce instead, and he tugs them into a tight hug.

Well.  
That was unexpected.  
Bryce is shocked and silent and still, for a moment, before they settle their arms around Caleb too and tuck their face against his hair and Molly, on the floor, could swear that they feel themself shatter at the realisation, the idea that they might not be the only one in love with Caleb.

Bryce is, too.

 

The three of them head to Caduceus’ at six, when the light of the city has completely faded and Molly has sung so much they think their throat might tear. They’ve recorded three new songs, though, to the standard of the sound engineer, and Caleb insists that they get tea before he discusses marketing strategies and music videos, so here they are. Caduceus serves them with a smile, and they sit around the table, Caleb and Molly across from Bryce.

Molly is restraining themself, trying so hard not to cling to Caleb like they’ve grown accustomed to.

“So, marketing.” Bryce interlocks their fingers and sets their chin on their hands leaning forward, “Tell me your plans, Caleb.”

And Caleb runs Bryce through the theory of marketing Molly as _desirable_ , a romantic interest that flirts and interacts with their fans, giving them that perfect balance between _famous_ and _attainable_ , though Caleb does note that he’s not a fan of treating Molly like a trophy and they lean over and kiss his cheek affectionately.  
Caleb goes through the projected plans- pushing Molly’s instagram, the follow ideas, youtube exclusives of acoustics and covers. Bryce nods along, and Caleb ignores the way that every single word from his mouth makes that horrid little flame between his bones burn brighter and brighter. It makes him feel sick.

“I think that’s an _excellent_ plan.” Bryce tells Caleb, “As long as Molly is on board for it, we can start _tonight_ , I still have promo shots of you in Jester’s outfits.”

“I’m on board.” Molly agrees brightly, and they drink their tea over the pattering of phones as the three of them begin shooting off texts, tweets, posting to instagram. Bryce puts out a plug on Zadash Records’ official twitter, and near immediately, Molly watches their follow count creep up.

“This is happening.” They say, awed, “This is _really_ happening.”

“It is.” Caleb agrees, and rests a hand over theirs, smiling despite his nausea, “You are a star, Mollymauk.”

Molly turns to pull Caleb into a cuddle, and Caleb presses into it. The more Molly touches him, the cooler the burn gets, the better it feels, the more it goes away.

“I couldn’t be without you.” Molly says softly, almost directly into Caleb’s ear. Caleb squishes them, and lets go, turning back to Bryce who has an odd, soft smile on their face.

“And because I know you haven’t heard yet, Molly, your first music video budget has been given.”

“Yeah?” Molly leans forward eagerly, “How much?”

Bryce looks at Caleb, and Caleb takes Molly’s hand, drawing their eyes to him,

“Fif _teen_ thousand.” he whispers.

Molly’s jaw drops.

“ _Fifteen thousand._ ”

“It’s exceptionally high for a starting artist.” Bryce’s smile has a hint of mischief, “But anything you don’t use can go toward… say… a worthy cause?”

They nod at the green binder, sitting on the table to Caleb’s right, and both Molly and Caleb follow their eyes.

“You are incredible, Bryce.” Caleb says quietly, and feels Molly squeeze his hand.

“I try.” They reply, and eye the two of them affectionately, “It’s getting late, though, you should get home. I’ll see you two on Tuesday for review, you have the studio on Monday from two ‘til five.”

“Thanks, Bryce.” Caleb smiles and stands, pulling Molly up with him, “See you Tuesday.”

Bryce waves them out, and they move into the cold drizzle of the night, the lights of the street glimmering through the thin rain.  
Molly withdraws an umbrella from their bag and puts it up over the two of them, looping their arm through Caleb’s to keep him close.

“Did you drive to work, or walk?” Caleb asks them quietly as they make their way to the parking lot, and Molly leans their head on his shoulder, as much as it clacks against bone.

“I walked.”

“Want a ride home?”

“From you? Always.”

  


Caleb’s apartment feels empty without Nott.

He sits on his bed on his laptop, scrolling Molly’s instagram. They’re so beautiful, no matter that they’re wearing, and their fans seem to think so too. There’s a handful of inappropriate comments that Molly has gracefully ignored, and a plethora of polite, flattering comments, too. Telling them how pretty they are, complimenting their bone structure or tattoos or colour scheme, pick-up lines, and Caleb reads them all, reads through Molly’s replies, flirting right back and calling people _darling_ , and the green flame between Caleb’s sternum and spine burns hotter and hotter and hotter.

He closes his laptop with the taste of bile and the sensation of burning in the back of his throat, sets the laptop over the side of the bed and curls up.

He’s not entirely sure what’s wrong with him.

 

He doesn’t fucking like it.

 

Sleep does not come easily.


	9. Avalanche

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is:  
> [Avalanche - Cavetown](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sDeAzmzw4qc)
> 
> Winter has truly set into Zadash, and Molly is recording their first music video.

Caleb flicks a few of the switches on the lighting system and looks up to Fjord, extending the pole on one of the reflectors yet to be filtered. It’s not quite fastened into place, yet, so he’ll wait for that.

The pseudo-improvised makeup booth behind him is bustling. Nott and Jester work together on Molly, Bryce is leaning against the tree that the tarp is fastened to, checking things on a clipboard, and a handful of extras are waiting around with the foil blankets around their shoulders to keep them warm whilst avoiding the paint rubbing off.

Caleb sighs softly, and Fjord gives him a thumbs up, comes to his side in the tarped-over tech area. Behind them, the generator for all of the lights and equipment hums.

“Molly wants to try and shoot the entire thing as one.” Caleb murmurs to Fjord over the sound of Molly yelping and Nott chiding, Fjord chuckles,

“So I’ve heard. D’you think it’s possible?”

Caleb gestures to the handful of abandoned buildings a hundred or so feet away, shrugs,

“I think the hardest part will be stabilising it across the field. There are a lot of hillocks the cameraperson can fall over, and the strobe lighting will make everything fucky.”

Fjord snorts at the description, but nods anyway.

“Certainly gonna be a task. Y’seen their rehearsals?”

“ _Ja_ , they have an incredible mind.”

“Uh-huh.” Fjord looks at Caleb from the corner of his eye, “That the only incredible thing they got?”

Caleb blinks, slow and exhausted and sighs.

“They _are_ incredible, Fjord, let’s not go down this route.”

“Fair enough.”

They lapse into silence as they wait for preparations to complete.

 

 

“Take one.” Bryce calls across, pressing one earphone to their head to listen for cues, and, “Rolling? Speakers?”  
  
Kiri gives them a thumbs up with her little bird hands, 

“Alright. Ready-” a quick glance around the group, “Action!”

And they drop back as the camera rolls forward, the stabilisation partially from the mechanism and partially in post. It’s Caleb’s problem in post. As is the lighting right now, as the main character comes into the camera screen in the dim light and wind, he carefully edges the purple and green lights up, about halfway, not too bright but enough to tone. There’s a gold spotlight moving along, unlit, and he hovers over that, too, as the wizard comes across the fields and the camera pans past them to one of the extras, padding along toward him.

The character of the wizard meets them, and the hood falls back to reveal the wizard’s dirty face and ruffled hair. Jester has done an incredible job with the character’s makeup, the bags under his eyes are dark and mottled and the stranger meets the wizard, holds out their hand.

 

Caleb holds his breath. This is the hardest part. He rockets the slide for the gold light to life.

 

The gold light flares in the camera lens, and in the split second that the characters are invisible, that extra hits the floor and rolls, and their gold-painted twin steps into their exact place, hand in the wizards, as the light fades.

Caleb gets a thumbs up from Bryce, leaning over the cameraperson’s shoulder to watch the preview screen, and the wizard moves on, pulling his hood back up.

Making his way toward the ruined buildings, the wizard does this a few more times, from going to help up a fallen child and turning her to gold, to accidentally bumping a stranger and doing the same. Finally, the wizard comes into the village area, and the camera comes up directly behind them, pans 360 degrees, and as it does, Molly runs quickly into their place on a podium, like a statue in the centre of the ruined town.

Seeing them painted in gold almost makes Caleb miss his cue to switch the lighting from blue to purple-pink, a soft-changing multi-color strobe effect.

 

Caleb often thinks that Molly is stunning. There’s never any linguistic way to describe the subtle changes each time it occurs.

 

The camera comes back to the wizard, to Molly, the focus changing with a careful tap and the wizard makes his way up to the ‘statue’ of them, their hood blown back again to show him smiling sadly, and he leans up to Molly, gently, he runs his fingers town the side of their golden face, along the curve of their jaw and Caleb feels such a flare in his chest that he almost doubles over, making Fjord look at him in quick shock.

The wizard turns away from the Molly statue, and the camera drags back as he begins to leave, blurs the foreground and focuses instead on Molly as they begin to move, dropping from their podium and pacing after the wizard.

 

Caleb lights the gold spotlight again, stills the strobes on the pink, and closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to watch the Molly statue embracing the wizard, so he doesn’t have to watch them kiss.

 

 

They shoot it another ten, eleven times, little issues each time, and Molly comes to Caleb between takes and holds his hand whilst they wait.

Eventually, they get it to a point that Bryce deems acceptable, and begin to pack up. Molly is being scrubbed free of the gold in the make-up area, and Caleb scrambles over to them, spluttering congratulations and Molly laughs at him affectionately, shakes their half-scrubbed hand out of Jester’s grip- eliciting a squeak of protest- and cups Caleb’s jaw to draw him in and kiss his cheek, leaves a faint trace of gold behind. Caleb looks down at his clothes and decides they’re not worth the self-restraint, he pulls Molly close and cuddles them, makes them chuckle as they rest their chin on the top of Caleb’s head.

“Molly! You’ll cover him in gold!” Jester protests, frowning, and Caleb smiles,

“I don’t mind. It’s worth it.”

  
“Aww! That is _so-o-o_ cute!”

Caleb closes his eyes.

Even though they’re covered in paint and most likely turning Caleb to gold where he stands, Molly is warm and comfortable and he feels safe in their arms. He always has felt safe here, it’s something inherent to Molly, they kiss the top of his head and for a few long, wonderful moments, the world is nothing but the two of them swaying in the breeze.

Then Jester pulls Molly’s hand from Caleb’s back with a soft grunt of disapproval, and begins to scrub.

Caleb doesn’t let go. He’ll never be able to erase the imprint of Molly kissing the wizard from the backs of his eyelids. The burning doesn’t bother him when he’s pressed to Molly’s chest.

“What’s wrong, Caleb?”

Molly’s voice is quiet and right in his ear, and Caleb shivers at how astute Molly can be, how well they can read him. He shakes his head against them, just a little.

“Alright, sweetheart.” And they kiss the shell of his ear softly, Caleb lets out a shaking breath and Molly curses their lack of self restraint in silence. They already treat Caleb similarly to they would if he- if they were-

But it still fills them with nerves, and they still want- more.

Holding Caleb against them is good enough, for now.

 

 

 

“And… it’s live.” Bryce tells them, leaning back from their computer with a satisfied smile, “Your first music video, Molly. How does it feel?”

“Unreal.” Molly murmurs, already on their phone to check it out. There’s three hundred and thirty-six likes already, and they can’t parse out the views, with the glitch. Still.

“I am still impressed that you managed the one-shot thing.” Caleb shakes his head in disbelief, “And honoured that you would donate to- to the foundation.”

Molly leans across and kisses Caleb’s hair.

“It’s the least I can do, both for you, and for the charity.”

Half of the proceeds from the music video, and the remainder of the budget, have all gone to Caleb’s charity to be dispersed amongst various companies to fund education and mental health awareness. When the charity grows, it will end up going towards grants into research, too, workshops, everything that Caleb wishes he’d had.

“And,” Bryce leans forward with a smile, “Are you excited about the release of your album?”

“Unspeakably.” Molly shakes their head, laughing a little, manic disbelief, “I never thought I’d get this far. I owe you both so much.”

“You don’t owe me anything. You pay my salary.” Bryce points out, smile widening, and Caleb just sort of pats them awkwardly in silent agreement.

“Lunch?” Caleb asks Molly softly, and they make a noise of agreement.

“See you soon, Bryce.” They call cheerily over their shoulder as the two of them make their way out and down the street, gathering themselves an additional Nott and Beauregard as they go.

 

They head to Pumat’s place for lunch, and Molly beams at Caleb as they sit,

“I’ll pay. It’s about time that I repaid you for that time with Jester.”

“ _Free_ food? Huh.” Beau leans back in her chair, “Guess it’s worth puttin’ up with your company.”

Molly checks around them to make sure there’s no children,

“Fuck you, Beau.”

“Yeah, fuck you too. I’ll have a chai.”

“Nott?” Molly looks to her, and she shrugs a little bit,

“Coffee is fine. Cake, if Deuces has any today.”

“He always does.” Caleb ruffles her hair gently, “He is always thinking of you.”

She bats at his hands until he stops, chuckling, and Molly inclines their head.

“Caleb?”

“You know what I want.” Caleb answers simply, leaning forward onto the table and resting his chin on his arms, closes his eyes at just the right time to miss Molly’s affectionate smile. Beau, however, absolutely does _not_ , she makes silent gagging gestures in Molly’s direction, and they stick their tongue out at her as they wander off to order.

“So, uh,” Beau tries, “They’re doin’ well, huh?”

“You know that they specifically requested you for security on their tour, _ja?_ ”

“I’d heard, yeah, Yasha told me but I didn’t really believe her. We’ve only met a couple times, always thought they hated me.”

“Oh, you had met before the tour?” Caleb’s eyes open to focus on Beau, “They gave me the impression that you hadn’t. Couldn’t remember your name.”

“Called me _butt?_ ” 

“Yes, exactly.”

“Yeah, _fuck you Molly!_ ” the last called to Molly at the counter, and they turn with a wicked grin, their tail whipping smugly behind them. They give her the finger, and turn back to Clay, leaning over the counter.

Caleb smiles at their back.

“That’s gross.” Beau pulls a face, and his eyes find her instead,

“What’s gross?”

“You an’ them. You’re so- loved up and _sweet_ and- ugh. Happy. It’s weird, seeing you happy.”

“Disguising that you care for me, as always, Beauregard.” Caleb rolls his eyes, “Do you think that I wouldn’t grow attached to someone that actually cares about me? I did the same with you.”

“Someone that _loves you._ ” Beau scoffs, “And not like this, y’didn’t. Our hugs are _still_ awkward.”

“That is fair. You are not very touchy. But, you know, Mollymauk _is_.”

“I’m what now?” Molly sets Beau’s chai and Nott’s coffee down, “Cake’s coming. So’s our drinks.” and they plop themself next to Caleb.

“You are cuddly.” He tells them, and emphasises his point by leaning against Molly and smiling into their automatic hug.

“Huh.” Molly looks down at the top of Caleb’s head, “I suppose you’re right.”

“There!” Beau points, rolling her eyes, “Exactly my point!”

“What point would that be?” Molly raises their eyebrows at her, half a challenge,

“That you’re special! Out of everyone that loves him, you’re the only one he’s so…” she makes a squishing gesture with both hands, and Molly chuckles. Flushes, but chuckles, though their internal process is halfway through screaming about the word _love_.

Because they do. They love him.

And he _can’t_ know.

He shifts against them to take his offered drink from Clay, and they give a soft sigh of contentment. Clay places their drink down on the table, too.

 

“So, new album.” Beau slowly swirls her drink in her cup, “New album usually means a tour, ‘specially if you’re popular. I reckon you will be. Might even get you headlining.”

Molly’s eyes widen, and he looks to Caleb, who nods in agreement without looking up from his drink,

“I have already mentioned it to Bryce, actually. It will depend on the popularity of your album, but they are making preparations with the expectation that you will be popular enough to headline.”

Molly stares, in silence, feeling tears of shock prick at their eyes and they give a gentle, breath of laughter.

“Oh, my Gods.”

Caleb looks up, startled,

“You’re crying.”

“It’s a good cry.” Molly sniffles, wiping their eyes with the back of their hand, “I’m- this is- I couldn’t ever have imagined this.”

“You deserve it.” Nott, from Caleb’s other side, chirps up, “You’ve got a lot of good to do in the world.”

“Thank you.” Molly says quietly, and Caleb winds an arm around their waist. Then they drop into conversation about Yasha, instead, and the thought of being discovered dies away in Molly’s mind.

 

 

 

**FROM: Mollymauk Tealeaf**

hey are you free tomorrow? not professionally just. personally yknow? x

 

**TO: Mollymauk Tealeaf**

I can be free for you. What’s wrong?

 

**FROM: Mollymauk Tealeaf**

nothings wrong! I just want to hang out. do you swim?

 

**TO: Mollymauk Tealeaf**

I haven’t for years, but I have the ability. Are you asking me to go swimming with you?

 

**FROM: Mollymauk Tealeaf**

well, me and Fjord and Jester, Nott can come too if she wants. i know she doesn’t like water.

 

**TO: Mollymauk Tealeaf**

I will ask her anyway. When and where?

 

 

 

Caleb shoulders his bag as the leisure centre comes into view, Molly waving at him from their place up against the wall. Nott bounds ahead of him to meet Jester, and Molly passes her to come to Caleb, takes careful hold of his shoulders and inspects his face.

Caleb is nervous. He hates to take his shirt off around others, even if his swimwear covers him up, it involves stripping. Specifically, stripping _naked_ , he can’t stand the sensation of his swimwear under clothing.

“You can stay with Nott at the side, if you want, sweetheart.” They murmur gently, slipping an arm around his shoulders as the two of them pad toward their friends, “You don’t have to do this for me.”

“It has been a long time since I went swimming.” Caleb gives a small, sad smile, “Do the changing rooms have- um- booths?”

“They have a single changing room for privacy and such, if that isn’t in use, you can request that?”

Caleb sighs gently.

“I don’t like to use that. But- I don’t know. I don’t feel like I should- like I’m worth- you know?”

Molly turns to kiss his hair gently.

“I prefer to change privately, too, to be honest. If you don’t mind a tagalong, that would make two of us.”

“I could never mind you.” Caleb’s voice bumps over his breathy laughter, and the idea of Molly needing the same facility does, in face, ease him. Jester waves as they get close.

 

Molly and Caleb manage to slip themselves into the smaller changing room. Caleb finds himself _extremely_ grateful that the private one was free; he really doesn’t want to consider changing around strangers, or Fjord. After all, the only ones aware of his… situation, as it were, would be Nott, Molly, and Bryce. (But that’s what he gets for stripping in front of his _client_.)  
Molly draws their fingers down his spine.

“Sweetheart, not to interrupt that little mental tirade you’re going on right now, but you should get changed.”

Caleb makes the mistake of looking at them.

They’re shirtless, and it’s the first time Caleb has really _seen_ them shirtless, shucking their way out of their pants, too, and Caleb’s breath catches.

He can do this bit. He’s good at this bit. His eyes move quickly over all of Molly’s newly revealed tattoos, over their scars, their shoulders, their ribs, and then he turns his back to them and closes his eyes to hold the memory in. He begins to undress, finds his hands shaking so much he can’t undo his _fucking_ belt buckle.

“Molly.” he murmurs, eyes still closed, “I can’t- my belt? Help?”

Gods rest Molly’s heart.

They turn to find Caleb already shirtless, facing them with his eyes closed tight and his fists balled at his side, and they step in a little closer, begging their brain not to- to be… Molly. To view this as it is. Innocent, friends helping friends, their hands shake only a little as they lower them to Caleb’s buckle.

“I’ve got you.” They tell him quietly, their voice coming as almost a rasp. There’s something criminally intimate about this. About the way that their chests almost touch if they both breathe in at the same time, about the cold metal of Caleb’s belt against Molly’s fingers, about Caleb’s eyes, how they’re screwed shut and Molly could press a kiss to his lips right here and now.

They almost do. They almost cave to it, close enough to feel his breath against their skin, and then they step back too quickly, scrambling away to give Caleb space.

 

It passes without incident from there. Caleb’s swimwear ends up being a one-piece with shorts and sleeves, more like a wetsuit than anything. Before they leave their changing room, Molly runs their hands gently down Caleb’s sides, appreciating the soft silky sensation of the material.  
Caleb sighs and presses back into Molly’s chest, tilting his head back so that he can catch sight of Molly’s face. Molly kisses his hairline.

“Thank you for this.” Caleb’s voice is strained by the stretch of his throat, Molly smiles at the sound.

“I don’t know why you’re thanking me.”

“I haven’t had the confidence to swim since- well. For years. Since my mother died, at least.”

Molly presses their face to Caleb’s hair, now that he’s straightened his head, winds their arms around him and appreciates the soft squish of his tummy under their grip.

“Then let’s go and do that.” They say, muffled by Caleb’s hair and he smiles and pats their arm.

“Love to.”

 

Caleb, as it turns out, is both an excellent swimmer and very mischievous in the water. He and Jester get into a number of splash fights, and at one point, he ends up clinging to Molly’s back as they swim through the water with their long hair billowing around the two of them. Nott calls encouragements from the sidelines, and they end up teaming up- Jester and Molly versus Caleb and Fjord- for a splash fight that gets them removed from the pool.

Caleb actually _giggles_ on their way through to the showers, Molly sits on the floor in front of him and Caleb gently runs the shampoo through their hair to rinse the chlorine out, is shocked to find Molly turning him around so that they can do the same for him.

It helps Caleb to sleep that night, when he’s haloed in a sunburst of his own lavender-scented hair.

 

 

The album releases a few weeks later.

Molly is with Caleb the day after the release, catching lunch at Caduceus’ place as usual, their face planted on the table and giggling wildly at their twitter notifications.

“This is unreal.” They tell Caleb, voice high and bouncing, “This is- Gods. Thank you.”

Caleb rubs circles between their shoulder blades.

“You deserve all of this.” He tells them, voice quiet and affectionate, “You have a unique talent, and a wonderful heart. You dedicate yourself to the things that you love.”

“And the people.” Molly agrees, and Caleb’s hand stutters. He continues stroking,

“And the people.”

Molly sits up and reads through some of their mentions as their drinks are delivered, and Caleb misses their face grow shocked, misses the tears that spring to their eyes,

“Caleb,” They say, and he notices that, “Look at this.”

They hold their phone to him, and Caleb steadies their hand by pressing his own over the back, reading the tweet- or the image of text attached, it’s longer than a tweet can hold.

It appears to be from a fan, their handle gives their name as Castor, and the text tells Molly how their music, how _Molly themself_ has given this stranger a reason to fight. For the theory that Molly would be proud, their music gives this fan something to fight for, and by the time Caleb has finished reading, Molly is in a full flood of tears. Caduceus sidles up to the table and places down a box of tissues quietly.   
Caleb takes one, and dabs carefully at Molly’s tears as they run, dabs away the mascara tracks.

“This is what you wanted, _ja_?”

“I am so proud of them.” Molly says through sobs, “I am _so proud_.”

“I am proud of you, too, Molly.” Caleb tells them gently, “You have done exactly what you wanted to do. You have given this person, and doubtless others, a reason to fight.”

“I didn’t do anything special.” Molly shrugs, and Caleb shakes his head, smiling,

“You don’t need to do anything special. You _are_ a reason to fight.”

“So are you, sweetheart.” Molly smiles back at him, meets his eyes, and for a moment, they are only silent.

Time passes different, in that moment, as Caleb searches Molly’s eyes, and they feel him come terrifyingly, achingly close to scooping their secrets out of their heart like hollowing a pumpkin, taking the flame from their heart out to the light of day.

 

 _I love you_.

 

It bubbles at the forefront of Molly’s mind, as it does every time they see Caleb. It coats their tongue, thick and sweet like lavender-honey tea.

Caleb brushes his thumb across Molly’s cheek for a moment, and then seems to snap out of it, pulling his hands back to himself and his drink, and Molly does the same, reluctant and sad and slow.

  


 

 

Molly and Caleb are in Bryce’s office before _Bryce_ is in Bryce’s office.

Molly has themself one arm around Caleb’s shoulders, using their free hand to scroll through their phone as they wait.   
They’ve brought Starbucks for Bryce, too, Caleb is watching the large plastic cup with singular focus, observing one of the droplets of condensation roll down the side of the pink. Strawberry Frappuccino, why Bryce drinks the cold ones in this weather, Caleb will never know. It’s actually starting to snow, outside, right now.

Molly is a sight in the snow and street lamplight.

It stains them gold and they giggle their way through the flakes like they’ve never seen it before, catching it on their fingertips and twirling and Caleb smiles as he stands under the umbrella, watching them grow colder and damper until they skitter under with him and pull him into a hug.

They’re only just starting to dry off now, actually, in the warmth of Bryce’s office.

 

The door opens behind them, and Bryce comes in, snow sliding off of their pale hair as they make their way around the table and sit.

“Oh.” They say, shocked as they take the Starbucks cup from their desk, “Thank you. You know that you don’t have to try and suck up, right?”

“I know.” Caleb leans against Molly, “I just thought you might enjoy it.”

Bryce smiles, their pale skin stained pink from the cold on their nose and cheeks, they lean across the desk toward Caleb.

“You’ve always been so sweet to me.”

“You repay the favour often enough.” Caleb smiles right back, “But for now- the album?”

Bryce’s smile grows into a grin, their eyes widening, brightening.

“The album.”

And the jealousy that had been creeping into Molly’s mouth disappears into excitement, they lean forward alongside Caleb as Bryce leans to the side and withdraws a file from their desk, Molly’s name on a label on the front.  
Caleb pats at Molly’s arm until they take his hand.

“Right.” Bryce thumbs through papers and Caleb tries not to vibrate in place. He knows fine fucking well they know the numbers off the top of their head, they’re just being dramatic drawing this out.

“Bryce.” He warns gently, and Bryce’s eyes flash up to meet his, briefly. They smirk, and go back to the papers.

“Well, it’s been a week since the release.” They say, drawling, drawing their voice out as slow as they can, “We have a speculation, based on your first week of sales. I’m sure you’ve seen how much your twitter has blown up.”

Molly is nearing four hundred _thousand_ followers. There’s been a few times that they’ve been spotted out in the city.

“I have.” Molly agrees, and Bryce’s head lifts finally from the papers,

“Your first week of release totals around three hundred and seventy-six thousand individual sales.” They say, slowly, “And you’re expected to hit platinum within the month.”

There’s a stunned silence in the room. Molly is squeezing Caleb’s hand so tightly, he thinks they might actually be cutting off his circulation.

When Caleb looks from the corner of his eye, Molly’s face has gone completely slack with shock. Their mouth has fallen into a pretty o-shape, their eyes are wide, and they have a single strand of damp hair curling down their forehead, caught on their eyelashes.

“Three hundred thousand.” Molly says, slow and quiet, “Platinum.”

“Yes, both of those things. We’re also sending you on a headline tour for… three months, all across the Empire, and down a little ways into the Menagerie Coast. Caleb will be managing between here and the gates to the south, and then _I_ will be taking over as your manager past that. He’ll be with you about a month, but he’s- um- needed here.”

Caleb blinks at them slowly to show his thanks. They smile back at him.

“A headline tour?” Molly asks, voice small and excited, “I’ll be headlining?”  
  
“You’ll be headlining.” Bryce beams, “Congratulations.”

Molly lets out a noise that can only be equated to that of air escaping the neck of a balloon, stretched tight. Caleb laughs, and finds that cut off by Molly pattering at him until he turns and they throw themself at him, cuddling so tight that Caleb feels his spine crackle. He tugs at them until they’re sitting in his lap, wrapped around him and giggling excitedly in his ear.  
Bryce smiles at the sight, a strange, affectionate smile that crinkles their eyes at the edges.  
Molly sits up abruptly, taller than Caleb by a good margin whilst they’re sitting on his lap, they brush the hair back from his face.

“We should go out again.” They say, quick and excited, it takes Caleb a few seconds to parse out what words they’ve used, “You, me, and you too, Bryce! And the others! We should go out on the town this Saturday, celebrate!”

Caleb keeps his hands on their waist, smiles up at them with such warmth and affection they think they might melt into his touch.

“I’d love to.” He tells them gently, “And we will try to avoid panic attacks this time, _ja?_ ” 

“ _Ja._ ” Molly grins for their reply, appreciates the way Caleb’s face tinges with pink, and Bryce chuckles,

“I’ll be there. It’ll be fun to finally see you drunk, Caleb.”

“Not if I see you drunk first.” Caleb snarks back, and Bryce gives a delighted bark of laughter,

“Is that a _challenge?_ ” They ask, grinning, “Would Nott approve?” 

“Nott would encourage it, and you both know it.” Molly replies for Caleb, rolling their eyes, “We’ll hash the details out later, alright? I’ll text you both.”

“Got it. You’re free to leave.” Bryce waves a hand, their smile still in place, and Molly slips off of Caleb’s knee so they can stand and wave goodbye.

 

They make their way out into the snow.

 

“I don’t drive in this weather, so I walked to work.” Caleb offers apologetically, “I can’t give you a lift home.”

“That’s fine, my sweet, I can walk.”

“I don’t feel right letting you walk by yourself.” Caleb frowns as he pulls his umbrella from his pocket, “I will walk you home.”

“I’m not going to say _no_ to an offer like that,” Molly teases, slipping their arm through Caleb’s, “But you really don’t need to.”

“I want to.” Caleb smiles, “I can walk home afterward.”

“Ab-so-lute-ly not.” Molly pats at Caleb with their free hand, “You can stay at ours. Fjord is spending the night with Jester, anyway, so I wasn’t going to _actually_ sleep tonight.”

“Oh.” Caleb says softly, and his brain chugs softly with the sensation of having Molly sleep at his side, “ _Ja_ , okay. Or- my apartment is closer. You can stay there.”

“You know, I think I would prefer that.” Molly muses, and they turn in the direction of Caleb’s apartment, “Nott is always wonderful company, and I love your cat.”

“Then it all works out. I will lend you some dry clothes, feel free to frolic.”

And they’re slipping away gleefully, twirling in the gold-lit snow and cackling their joy to the open sky above.

Caleb feels his heart smooth and soften in his chest as he pads along behind them, watching even as they slip and fall in the snow and sit up again, covered in white and laughing at their own clumsiness.

He feels, in everything, that he is so immensely lucky to have the chance to know Mollymauk Tealeaf.

 

They look at him, beaming, eyes red and glimmering in the street light.

 

Caleb finds that he is, inexplicably, content.


	10. It's Alright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter's song is:  
> [It's Alright - Fractures](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DNCH2-P0Lfs)
> 
> They go out on the town!

“Nott?” Caleb calls as opens the front door to the apartment, arms full of bags, “Which room?”

“Main!” Comes the returning call, strained and thick and Caleb’s face twists sadly. He makes his way through, and gently kicks the door closed behind him, heads into the adjoining kitchen.

“I bought tinned soup, and ingredients to make soup. Which would you prefer?”

“You don’t have time to make soup.” Nott struggles to sit so that he can see her smile, “You need to get ready.”

“ _Liebling,_ I am not going to celebrate without you.” Caleb frowns, begins to unpack the bags and put them away. Nott pulls a face he doesn’t see,

“This is the first time that Bryce is going out. Do you really want to leave them alone? With _Jester?_ ”

Caleb grimaces at that thought. There’s no way come nine hells or high water that Jester _won’t_ mention his embarrassing little past crush on the senior manager.

He has very vivid visions of himself, sitting on Jester’s pink bedspread and groaning loudly about how pretty they were. Are. And how soft their hands are- not that he can understand that, though, Bryce is a re-enactment nerd that trains with a morningstar regularly. They _also_ own a longsword, but Caleb knows their preference is on the morningstar. Either way, by any means, Bryce’s hands should be rough from all of their heavy weapons training, but _no_. Whatever they do, it works.

“Caleb?” Nott interrupts, “With _Jester?_ ”

“No- _ja_ , you are very right.” Caleb turns back around, a can of chicken soup in one hand, a bowl in the other. He begins his search for a can opener, “I am still reluctant to leave you, though. You are not well.”

Nott shrugs,  
“If anything goes wrong, I’ll call Kiri.”

“What’s _Kiri_ going to do?”

“Be good company. Actually, I might ask her over anyway…”

“Feel free, _Liebling_.”

Caleb puts the bowl of soup in the microwave and sets it to work, Nott makes squeaking noises until he comes over and picks her phone from the table to give to her.

“Thank you Caleb.” She smiles, lies back, and Caleb pushes her hair back from her face to test how hot she it. She is, in fact, very warm.

“I’m going to go and get changed. I will come back to you for your approval.”

“Good. You can’t choose clothes for shit.” Nott cuddles into the side of the sofa, shivering, and he dumps another blanket over her before he heads off.

 

Caleb takes his contacts out first. He puts them in his freshly-changed lens cases, and begins to strip down.

His outfit choice for tonight is- let’s see. It’s the club, as usual, so the _bisexual nerd_ look, and he plans on _arriving_ with the orange glowstick fastened around his wrist. He won’t let Jester pull her shit. He withdraws himself a fall-coloured plaid overshirt, a brown t-shirt, some of his more tattered black skinny jeans. He’s sure he has orange canvas shoes somewhere, to fit with the theme.

It takes him a few minutes of grunting and pulling to get _into_ the skinny jeans, but he manages it, can’t roll his own sleeves so he picks his glasses from the table and makes his way out to Nott, instead, with a pause along the way to stir the soup and put it back on in the microwave.

“Nott, can you roll my sleeves?”

She struggles to sit up, but he comes to her side and helps her sit, offers his arms to her and she gets to work rolling her boy’s sleeves up.

“Thank you.”

“S’okay.” Nott yawns, “Kiri’s coming over. She’s working night shift from midnight, though.”

“Any time is good time.”

“Speaking of time,” Nott glances at the clock, “You need to get going.”

“The taxi is coming for seven fifteen.”

“It’s seven.”

“I know.” He smiles for her, and wanders back to the microwave to withdraw the bowl with the oven gloves, sets it on their singular tray and brings it over to her.

“What flavour?” She sniffs at it, already picking up the spoon when Caleb answers,

“Chicken.”  
  
“Thank you.” And then her mouth is full of soup. Caleb chuckles, disappears to collect his wallet and chain and phone and fidget spinner, and comes through.

“See you later.” Caleb tells a soup-filled Nott, he leans over and kisses the top of her head, and leaves down the stairs to wait for the taxi.

 

Molly is waiting for him outside the club. When he climbs out, they come running, scoop him up and spin and Caleb is so shocked that he forgets to make noise until they’re on their second rotation, when he bursts into giggles. Molly matches him, Caleb is a good foot off the floor, and Molly drops him with grace and decorum. Which is to say that they ruck Caleb’s shirt a good three inches as he slides through their arms to the floor.

“That is what I call a greeting.”

“Hello, sweetheart.” Molly beams, arms still around him, Caleb’s orange wristband glowing behind Molly’s head.

“Are you not afraid you’ll be recognised? Your sales are past four hundred thousand, now.”

“I’m spending time with my friends, I don’t give a shit who sees me.”

“Like this, though?” Caleb forces himself to let go, “Can’t let it seem like you’re unavailable, Molly. Flirting, remember.”

“Aw.” Molly pouts, “Alright. Bryce and the others are inside.”

“Bryce is _already here?_ ”

“Yes?” Molly raises an eyebrow, “Jester and Beau are going to be late, Bryce, Fjord, and Yasha are here, inside. I hear that Nott is ill?”

“ _Ja_ , she has the sniffles. I have left her with soup.”

“The best cure.” Molly beams, and the two of them begin to make their way in, “Oh.”  
  
“Molly?”   
  
“By the way, what’s with the- the wristbands. The glowsticks.” Molly taps Caleb’s wrist, “I’ve seen a few people with them.”

“It is a system that Jester implemented, based on what you’re looking for. Pink for looking for women, green for men, blue for any, orange for not interested.” Caleb smiles at Molly’s nod of approval,

“Good system. What about non-binary people?”

“We have yet to persuade them to add the yellow.” Caleb rolls his eyes, “It does lock me into the orange, though, I don’t much want to wear the blue when i have no interest in women.”

“Oh.” Molly’s voice is small, and Caleb pats their arm,

“Would you like one?”  
  
“Orange, I think.”

Caleb feels that little burning flicker in his chest, as he always does when he’s reminded that Molly is in love. But he does, in fact, have a spare orange on him, just in case, so he pauses them both just outside of the door and fastens it around Molly’s wrist.

“Thank you.” Molly chances a quick kiss to Caleb’s hair, and he shakes his head, rolls his eyes, and pushes the door open to enter.

 

“Caleb!” Bryce is half standing from the table when they arrive, “I was just about to get drinks. What would you like?”  
  
“I will join you.” Caleb smiles as Molly slips into their seat beside Fjord, and Yasha waves awkwardly at him from the other side, “You will need my hands.”

Bryce’s laugh is visible, not audible,  
“Yes, I’m sure I will.”

And they wave placations as the two of them wander over to the bar. Being reasonably sheltered here, it’s quieter, they don’t have to shout quite as much. The two of them put in their orders, and wait, pressed shoulder-to-shoulder.

“Three years of knowing you, and this is the first time I’ve been out with you. And _Molly_ had to invite me, Caleb, I’m hurt.” Bryce fakes being scandalised, pressing their hand to their chest and Caleb swallows his nerves,

“I always assumed you’d prefer to keep our relationship professional.”

“Ah, and I assumed the same. Good job that Molly came along, hm?”

“They have certainly turned my life upside-down.” Caleb agrees, taking the first two drinks slid across to him.

Bryce eyes him for a moment, considering their options,

“Do you dance, Caleb? I’d like to dance with you.”

Caleb chokes on air, halfway between disbelief and laughter.

And when that fades away, and he sees Bryce’s face, sincere and a little hurt, he feels… bad.

Curse his old feelings.  
“No, no.” He says, gentle, and loops an arm around them to put a hand on their hip, “I’d like that. Later, though, we should celebrate with our friends first.”

Bryce nods their agreement, and they collect the drinks and move back to deposit them on the table, and sit side-by-side whilst they wait for their missing friends.

Jester and Beau turn up half an hour late, arm-in-arm, Jester dressed in the poofiest dress they’ve ever seen her in. It suits her.

They spend a good few hours cackling, sharing stories, rearranging so that Jester and Yasha swap seats and Jester can finally curl against her boyfriend’s side. Nott, it seems, is greatly missed at the table, the group even plays a few card games that seem boring without Nott  scamming them out of their coppers. They alternate rounds, Molly picking up the most, including three or four rounds of shots and a good few glasses of neat whiskey for Caleb, who gets drunk enough to kiss their cheek gratefully. 

Caleb is pleasantly tipsy by the time Bryce pats their hands on the table,

“Well, with all present company, Caleb and I are going to dance.” they announce and stand, offering Caleb their hand. Caleb looks to Jester, briefly, and her grin says everything, she makes a shooing gesture at him and he turns back to Bryce and takes their offered hand.

Molly watches the two of them wander off, and leans against Fjord’s arm.

“Jealous?” Fjord teases, and Molly makes a grunting noise that Fjord more feels than hears,

“ _Very._ ”

 

“I have never danced in a club situation.” Caleb is on his tiptoes to talk directly into Bryce’s ear, “I don’t feel that a _waltz_ is the most appropriate for…” he gestures to the room, and Bryce chuckles, the vibration against Caleb’s chest is warm and pleasant.

“We’re on the edge, Caleb, there’s none of that… stuff.”  
  
A gesture toward a handful of people that are truly letting loose in the middle of the dancefloor. At least one of them is twerking. Caleb is pretty sure his spine would snap like a twig if he even tried, he’s content to let Bryce set their hands at his waist as they sway together, gentle and slow at the side of the dancefloor, their friends invisible in the multi-coloured spotlights and crowds.

Tentatively, he puts his own hands to Bryce’s hips, meeting bone under skin. Bryce has always been slim, owes it to their elven heritage no doubt.

“There we go.” Bryce muses, quiet in the temporary lull as the music changes, and the two of them sway, slowly, to the beat of the new song.

 

“Molls,” Fjord pats their shoulder, “Jes an’ I are headin’ out. I’m headin’ back to her place, that okay?”

“I’ll live. Have fun!” Molly grins over the ache and worry in their chest, “Any idea where Yasha and Beau went?”

The two had gone to dance almost half an hour ago, and Molly has lost sight of them in the mess. They can just about see Caleb’s over the crowd, though it’s nearing one in the morning and it’s beginning to thin. They’re refusing to look over there, though, refusing to see Caleb pressed against someone in love with him.

“No idea! I’ll get y’ another drink before y’ leave, alright?”

Oop, they’d forgotten they’d asked a question.

“Anything with multiple spirits, bonus if it’ll knock me on my ass, here this’ll cover it.” and they drop two platinum into Fjord’s hand. Fjord sighs and ducks down to kiss their horn, then disappears to go and collect them a drink.

Jester sidles up beside them in Fjord’s place.

“ _Mol-ly._ ” she teases, and Molly’s eyes leave her only momentarily, darting over to Bryce and Caleb, and then back.

“What?”

“Molly, why are you here?” Jester lilts, drawing her fingers up and down their arm, “Why aren’t you over there?”

“I don’t want to third wheel.” Molly shrugs, and gives a half-bark of a bitter laugh.

Jester’s teasing expression falls away to wide-eyed seriousness.

“What’s _really_ going on, Molly?”

Molly sighs and buries their face in their hands.

“Jester.” and they groan, “Jester, I’m in love with Caleb.”

Jester claps excitedly and forces her expression from a smug grin into something supportive,

“And why is that a problem?”

“Because- look.” they gesture to Bryce and Caleb, pulled flush against one another and talking quietly, swaying, Bryce with one hand to Caleb’s cheek.

Jester follows, and comes back to them,

“And?”

“And I’m in love with my _manager_ , and he can’t love me back.”

“Bullshit!” Jester chirrups, “Says _who?_ ”  
  
“Says everything. I love him so much, Jes’, you know, _Phoenix_ was written about him.”

“Molly!” Jester squeals, “That’s so _cute!_ You know, Caleb was the songwriter for his old band! Maybe he can help you write a song about him!” and she winks. Molly looks up, a little startled,

“Caleb was in a band?”

Jesters eyes widen and her face falls into almost guilty horror.

“You didn’t know! Fuck!” and they see her looking around quickly, she spots Fjord and stands, scrambles to her feet,

“Jes?” Fjord places Molly’s drink down on the table, and Jester scoots to his side.  
  
“Time to go! Ask Caleb to write a song with you! Love you! Night!” growing fainter, and fainter as she pulls Fjord away. Molly is left along, and they sigh, sip their drink and will the alcohol to send them comatose in their own mind.

 

When the music changes again, Caleb lets out a delighted laugh that Bryce mirrors a split-second later.

“Molly.” Caleb smiles. It’s _Midas,_ their most popular song and one of Caleb’s favourites of theirs, too. It’s recently been booted out of the top spot by their new love song, _Phoenix._   
  
“Have you ever really listened to this one?” Bryce almost has to shout to be heard, “This song, the video, _Molly?_ ”   
  
“ _Ja,_ of course, I have heard this song and seen the video more times than I can count!”

“But have you _really_ listened, Caleb?” Bryce shifts a hand to draw Caleb’s face from their shoulder, meeting his eyes, “Have you really paid attention to them?”

“Uh- _ja_ , I think?”

“I don’t think you have, Caleb.”

They’re brushing Caleb’s hair back, and Caleb’s head and chest both squeeze and spin. He would have given anything for this a year ago. They’re looking at him like they’re worried, or desperate, and Caleb just can’t help the spike of confused affection.

“Caleb.” Bryce’s voice is soft, the lull of quiet in the musical pause, and Caleb kisses them.

It’s an odd sensation. Both terribly wrong and perfectly right in equal measure.

There’s a few seconds of shock where Bryce _kisses him back_ , and then they’re drawing away from him and laughing, a little manic laugh that bubbles over and they press their face into their hand.

“Oh, Caleb.” They shake through their laughter, and Caleb stares, completely baffled, but Bryce still has one hand on his hip holding him close.

“ _Was?_ ”

“You couldn’t have done that six months ago?” Bryce’s hand returns to the side of Caleb’s face, he presses into their cool skin, “Of course, you _would_ do that now.”

“What about this is wrong?” Caleb frowns, and Bryce sighs, some expression of affectionate sadness on their face,

“This- I’m not what you really want, or need. You know that.”

Caleb is silent for a few long, long moments.

“ _Ja._ ” He agrees, a slight nod, “I know.”

And he _does._ He can’t figure out what it is that he _does_ want or need, but he knows that it isn’t Bryce.

He leans into them anyway, and they hold him gentle and close and the two of them sway, silently on the edge of the dancefloor in comfort.

 

They return to the table a short time later to find only Molly there, looking thoroughly miserable, with a semi-circle of empty glasses around them and what looks like tear tracks in the mascara down their face.

“Where are the others?” Caleb slips into place beside Molly, and they shrug slow and sad,

“Jester and Fjord went home to cuddle. Beau and Yasha disappeared a while back. You and Bryce went to dance.”

“We left you alone.” Caleb says, voice quiet and lost to the music and he pulls himself in close to Molly, an arm around their waist. He can tell that something is deeply wrong when they don’t lean into him. Bryce grabs their own glass from the other side of the table and downs the remainder of their drink,

“I should get home too, it’s late.” They call over the music, “I’ll see you next week?”

“ _Ja,_ see you next week. Thank you, Bryce.”

“Any time, Caleb. Love you.” and they pat his head gently as they turn to leave. Molly winces.

“I need to smoke.” They tell Caleb, already struggling to their feet, “And go home.”

“We will walk you out, Bryce.”

“Thank you, how sweet.” Bryce gives Caleb an odd kind of smile that makes jealousy burn in Molly’s chest but they swallow it down. Caleb has his arm around their waist, pulling them close, and they still sway on their way out. Bryce wanders beside them, and they escape into the cool night air, splitting from Bryce to go and smoke. Bryce waves goodbye when they turn a corner.

“Molly? Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, just- I drank a lot.” Molly’s hands are shaking so hard they can’t even light their cigarette, so Caleb takes it gently from them and puts it in his own mouth to do it for them.

“Is Fjord home?” He asks as he hands it back, admittedly a drag in, the air around them both fills with a plume of smoke.

“No, he’s gone to Jester’s. S’okay.”

Caleb studies them, leaning against the wall. They’re shaking despite the support, one wedge-heeled, booted foot bracing them against the red brick of the club, drunk and sad with mascara tracks down their cheeks and Caleb wasn’t there to wipe their tears away when they cried.

“You are staying with me, tonight.” He tells them, and Molly shakes their head,

“I can stay at- at home, it’s okay.”

“I don’t like the idea of you going home in such a state, especially to an empty flat that you will not sleep in. Especially alone.”

Molly presses the heel of their free hand to their eye as they begin to tear up.

“Don’t.” they manage thickly, “Don’t act like I’m important.”

Caleb is speechless for a moment, and as they put their cigarette out and press both hands to their eyes, he puts an arm around their shoulders and leads them toward the taxi rank.

“You are important, Molly.” Caleb murmurs, and they climb into the back of the first taxi on the rank, Molly crying freely. Caleb gives the driver his address and buckles them in.

“Molly.” Caleb says quietly, as the taxi pulls out, “You are important. Why in the name of all the Gods would you assume that you aren’t?”

“I saw-” Molly hiccups, “You and Bryce. Cuddling.” and they realise as they’re speaking that this is a dangerous territory. Caleb could very, very easily realise their jealousy. Their _feelings for him._ “You looked so comfortable.”

“Ah.” Caleb says quietly, and pulls at Molly until they rest their head on his shoulder, “You and- your feelings. Loneliness. Envy. Wanting that with- with whoever you have- your feelings for.”

…Yeah, that’ll do.

“Exactly.” Molly lies in a murmur, closes their eyes against Caleb’s shoulder and breathes the scent of leather and books. “I’m- I’m jealous.”

There’s a rush of something strange and new that makes Molly’s whole body shake, to tell the truth, to be so dangerous, and they’re rewarded for their honesty by Caleb cuddling them best he can whilst strapped into the taxi’s seat.

“There is no controlling the way you feel, Molly. You can’t stop being jealous. All that you can do is control the way it makes you react.”

Molly breathes, slow and calm, doesn’t reply but presses silently closer and Caleb rocks them both gently, presses his face to Molly’s hair between their horns.

 

They climb out by Caleb’s apartment, and Molly pays with slurred thanks, lets Caleb take their hand and draw them up the stairs and into his apartment, unlocking the door quietly.  
Nott, evidently, is asleep. No surprise, as it’s hedging three in the morning, but Caleb motions to Molly to be as quiet as possible anyway.

He takes them both to the sink, first, presses a little glass of water into Molly’s hand and fills one for himself, too. They drink in quiet contemplation, avoiding one another’s eyes, but with their fingers laced between them.

“Go and piss before you come to bed.” Caleb says quietly, puts their glasses in the sink for the morning and stands on his tiptoes to kiss Molly’s cheek with all the softness in the world.

“Come to bed?” Molly asks, baffled, “I can sleep with you?”

“Did you think I was going to put you on the sofa after last time?” Caleb gives them an amused smile, “Of course you can. Piss first, bed second.” and he shepherds them into the bathroom.

He leans against the wall when the door closes behind them, sighs softly into the darkness of the apartment and lets the worry seep out of him. Molly is here, and safe, and Bryce isn’t mad that he kissed them, and everything in his life is- not perfect. But it’s good. Molly is in the bathroom, running the water, Nott is asleep in her bed- actually, he hasn’t checked that yet. He darts to her door and peeks in and yes, she is asleep in her bed.

Everything is okay.

Molly opens the door to the bathroom with their hair loose around their shoulders and the majority of their makeup washed off of their face, only the stubborn waterproof wings of the eyeliner and their lipstick remaining without their makeup wipes. The bathroom light is on, illuminating them from behind like an angel and Caleb lets his breath out slowly, measured.

Molly truly is stunning.

“I’m going to piss, and I’ll be right in.” Caleb pats as he passes, and Molly nods mutely, stumbles as quietly as possible into Caleb’s room.

Caleb comes in when he’s finished to find Molly sitting on his bed, staring around at his room.

Caleb’s room is… nice. He has shutter blinds, a bedside table with a touch lamp and a little aloe vera succulent. There are photos up on the wall of Caleb with Nott and Molly and Beau and Jester and- wait.

Molly’s eyes come back to the photo of them. They can’t remember this at all, but it looks like it’s from the tour, in the green room after a show with Caleb cuddling them excitedly, both laughing. It’s at a slightly weird angle, and Molly suspects that either Nott or Jester probably took it.

Caleb follows their eyes and flushes.

“ _Ja_ , I like to keep photos of the people that I- that I care about.”

“That’s… really sweet.” Molly stands, and opens their arms to Caleb. And Caleb, through relief or stupidity or alcohol, collapses into the offered hug, ducks to fit his head under Molly’s chin and sighs as Molly wraps their arms around him.

“Can we stay like this?” Caleb murmurs softly against Molly’s shoulder, “For tonight?”

“Of course, my darling.”  Molly shifts to kiss the top of Caleb’s head, swaying them both with their own instability, “As long as you like. But we should _probably_ change first.”

“Of course. Just… just a few more moments.”

They stay like that for almost a minute before Caleb eventually draws away to withdraw sleeping clothes for them both. Molly sits on his bed with a flump and begins to work on their boots, grumbling, finally manages to get them stripped off as Caleb returns to his bed with shirts and a pair of loose pants for himself.

Caleb slings his legs over Molly’s and gets to work undoing the buttons on their shirt, they sigh gratefully as he does.

“Thanks, don’t think my hands would stay still enough.”

“I assumed.” Caleb murmurs back, pushes the shirt back off of them, and pauses with his hands on their shoulders. Molly shakes the shirt to other side of the room, and refocuses their attention to meet Caleb’s eyes. A slow smile spreads across their face at his expression, and his hands on their shoulders, fingers twitching.

“Appreciating the view, darling?” Molly teases, makes Caleb blush and slip off of their lap. He passes them a shirt to sleep in, silently, bright red and avoiding his eyes and Molly leans over to him and kisses his cheek.

“I didn’t mean to leave you alone.” Caleb says quietly, “I don’t intend for you ever to be alone.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Molly murmurs, “Get changed so that I can cuddle you.”

Caleb just… obeys. He doesn’t argue or protest, he just stands and strips off his shirt and pants and Molly watches with just a twinge of guilt that it’s _inappropriate_ , to be staring at their _manager’s_ ass like it could be their next meal.

Caleb pulls his shirt and pants on, Molly kicks off their skinny jeans and tugs the covers of Caleb’s bed back, crawls in and waits, one arm open to Caleb and waits.

Caleb crawls onto the bed on his knees and before he lies down, he ducks his head and presses a kiss to the very tip of Molly’s ear, the little point that has been haunting him and finds his odd impulse to hold it in his mouth is partially sated. So he does it again.   
Molly giggles under him, winds their arms around his waist and squeezes, pulls,

“Darling. Caleb. My love. Sweetheart, come _on_ , it’s sleep time.” and Caleb punctuates each pet name with another light kiss, until he finally lets Molly drag him down to the bed and wind around him.

Caleb pulls them closer, tucks himself under their chin and sighs against their collarbone.  
Molly kisses the top of his head. For a brief moment, they feel a surge of bravery, comfortable with the man that they adore falling asleep against them.

“I love you, Caleb.”

Caleb gives an affectionate hum, a squeeze as he fades further, and Molly smiles and closes their eyes to join him.

 

Molly falls asleep convincing themself that Bryce and Caleb aren’t in love.

  
They fall asleep convincing themself they stand a chance.

  
And they fall asleep knowing in themself that they’re lying, and find that they don’t mind at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please give me attention. I have been very uhhh. I don't feel like this matters recently. like if it just. stopped nobody would notice.


	11. Superstar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter's song is:  
> [Superstar - Taylor Swift](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GKf6yPQl4LY)

The first thing that Molly does when they wake up is try not to panic.  
  
The second thing that they do is panic.

The previous night is heavy and hazy in their mind, they’ve woken up in Caleb’s bed, with Caleb _in their arms_ and they can’t even be _happy_ about it because they can’t remember how they got here.

 

Either Caleb was awake prior to them, or their sudden hyperventilation stirs him, because he clings tighter and closer and much more like a limpet.

“Caleb.” Molly pats him, “Darling.”

Caleb peels back from under Molly’s chin and blinks the sleep-haze from his eyes,

“Are you okay?”

Of course that would be Caleb’s first reaction. Molly scrambles to extract themself, and Caleb blinks slowly.

“Ah.” Caleb’s conscience reaches him. He had kind of just… shoved Molly into his bedroom, in all fairness, “I- _sheiße_. Sorry.”

Molly stops, takes a deep breath,

“If I’m sorry, and you’re sorry, I think it should be alright.” coupled with a quiet laugh, and Caleb lets himself exhale and reach out to Molly, slipping his fingers between theirs.

“I really am sorry that we left you last night. If I had known the others had left-”

“Don’t worry.” Molly waves their free hand, “It’s not fair of me to ask you to be with me all the time.” _As much as I’d like you to be._

“I know that you have issues with- with being alone.”

“Caleb, sweetheart, it’s _okay_. Honestly, I barely remember last night.”

“No?”  
  
“No, no. I remember you arriving, and I was already pretty buzzed then. And then um… a couple of rounds of shots? And you going to dance? And- oh.”

“Hm?” Caleb looks up, expects Molly to be looking at him but they _aren’t_ , they look about ready to be sick, staring at their own knees.

“Nothing. Blank. I think I cried.”

Caleb can tell that they’re lying, they’re not making too much of an attempt to hide it, and he squeezes Molly’s fingers a little tighter.

“I won’t leave you again.” He promises, and Molly shakes their head, laughing a little,

“Yes you will. You’ve got to leave me for the tour.”

Ah. That’s true.

“You won’t be alone. Bryce will take care of you.”

“Just like they take care of you?” They try to keep the bitterness from their words but they can’t shake the memory of Caleb kissing Bryce. Caleb starts at their tone.

“Is there- do you have an issue with Bryce? Did they say or do something I don’t remember?”

That’s a terrifying concept. Two of Caleb’s favourite people, not getting along then they need to be so close, when Caleb is trusting Molly to Bryce for two whole months and Bryce to Molly for the same.

“No it’s- no. Bryce is fine. I’m just- hungover.”

They hate themself for the lie. But what can then do?

“I will get you a drink and some painkillers. Lie back down, I will text Fjord and let him know you’re here, too.”

Molly makes a grateful noise and curls back into Caleb’s bed, Caleb stands and makes for the door. He looks over his shoulder as he slips out, and can’t help appreciating just how cute Molly is when they’re curled around his duvet in the thin blocked light of the winter morning.

 

The tour creeps up on them eerily quick. Molly shakes their awkward coat around Bryce, they are nothing if not a wonderful actor, and besides. Bryce is sweet, and Caleb had kissed _them._ It’s not like they’ve stolen Caleb out from under Molly.

(Molly has never really considered themself in a monogamous situation before. It’s scary to have such focus.

 

Caleb climbs, tentatively, onto the tour bus. Shakastë is sitting at the table with his bird on his shoulder, eating his way slowly through a bowl of cereal. Nott sits across from him with toast, and Molly isn’t here.

“Five minutes!” Kari shouts through as the bus comes to life, “Get your food in you before we set off!”

Nott and Shakastë both start to eat faster. Caleb heads through to the sleeping rooms, instead, finds Molly straightening out the covers on one of the beds and they turn to him with a grin.

“How does it feel to be the big manager on board, hm?”

“How does it feel to be a superstar?” Caleb teases back, and Molly chuckles as Caleb steps in and drops the curtain behind him, turning the bright daylight to dim warmth. They saunter over to him- really, there’s no other word for the sway of their hips- and put their hands on his shoulders, light and gentle.

 

And they lean in and press a kiss to his cheek.

 

“You alright to sleep in here with me?” they ask as they retreat, and Caleb’s hand goes to the mark they’ve left on his cheek- blue, today.

“Of course.”

“Wonderful. Or should that be _wunderbar?_ ”

Caleb laughs. Actually laughs, loud and audible and almost a bark, like he hasn’t laughed in a long time and he covers his mouth as he mutes it, eyes crinkling at the edges with his smile.  
Molly could fall in love with that sight a thousand times over.

“Your accent is abysmal, _Mollymauk_.”

“You’ll have to teach me, darling.”

And the common urge to kiss Caleb comes again, Molly is paralysed by their desire to press their lips to Caleb’s, stain his the same pretty blue of his own.  
Caleb’s hands are on their hips, just-

 

Just like they had been with Bryce.

 

Molly pulls away. They move back to their bed and sit and pulls their phone out and Caleb follows, concerned,

“Are you alright?”

“Don’t want to fall on my ass when the bus starts moving.” Molly fakes their grin, and with perfect comedic timing, Kari pulls out and Caleb goes flying. Molly drops to the floor and crawls to his side, their jealous bitterness not enough to outweigh their concern.

“Like that?” Caleb asks from his place splayed upside-down against the wall and carpet, and Molly chuckles as they ease Caleb’s head onto their lap and stroke his hair back from his dazed eyes.

“Like that.” He agrees.

 

 

 

Molly struggles to run in a skirt, but they make a valid fucking effort, dashing down the hall and quite literally leaping into Caleb’s arms, sending them both to the floor.

“ _Two months_ without you!” Molly is _sobbing_ into his shoulder, “Two months!”

“Molly, _Liebling,_ you will have no time to miss me.” Caleb laughs and crushes them in his arms, as tight as he can possibly hold them, “You have so many shows to do, I won’t even be a shadow of a thought on your mind.”

“You’re _always_ on my mind.” Molly nestles closer, and in the heat of the moment and the weeks of sadness to follow, this doesn’t register to Caleb as at all odd.

“I am only ever a phone call away. And you have Bryce.”

Bryce waves cheerily from their spot against the wall, where they had been having a conversation with Caleb moments prior to a big ball of purple sadness dropping on him.

“I know.” Molly moans, and Caleb skims a hand down their back gently, straightening their ruffled shirt, “I’m just- you’re _special!_ ” 

Caleb sighs and relaxes under them, waits a few more seconds before he tugs their tail gently,

“Off. Come on, I need to go.”

Molly yelps, bites their lip and scrambles up if only to disguise their physical reaction to that tail tug. The last thing that Caleb needs is a banana in the pocket- because they _refuse_ point blank to think explicitly sexual things about their manager. About their Caleb.  
Caleb is climbing to his feet, too, and Molly takes his hands when he’s upright,

“Don’t go before I get changed?” They beg, “Just wait? I’ll be quick, promise.”

“I want you to come to the car with me, anyway, I have something for you.” Caleb smiles, and Molly beams and kisses his cheek quickly before they scramble off, and Bryce pushes from the wall to come to Caleb’s side.

“Are you going to be alright, leaving them?” Bryce asks, taking Caleb’s arm, pulling him to the side, Caleb sighs.

“I have to be. If I stay- I just, I’m not ready. It’s too familiar. It brings it all back up.”

“Come here.” Bryce sighs and pulls Caleb into a loose hug, smiles as he exhales and deflates against them.

“I’m scared, Bryce.”

“What of?”

“Of leaving Molly. Of something bad happening to them, to you, I’m afraid of the past and I’m just… afraid.”

Bryce hums contemplatively and squeezes, briefly.

“It’s alright to be afraid.” They say softly, “There’s nothing wrong with being afraid.”

“It feels stupid.”

“Maybe. But it doesn’t matter if it’s stupid, because you’re still scared, and that’s the problem. Not what’s caused it.”

Caleb groans. He tucks his forehead against the crook of Bryce’s neck and just waits for himself to calm down.

 

By the time Molly reappears- in leggings and a loose T-shirt that Caleb knows fine fucking well belongs to him- Caleb has recollected himself, standing alone without any support from Bryce. Molly draws near, Caleb offers his hand, and they make their way outside with Bryce trailing them.  
Yasha, Beau, and Nott are already outside when they get to Caleb’s car, prompting a lot of spluttering as Beau throws Nott out of the hug they’d caught with spit excuses, and Yasha rumbles with laughter beside her.

“Oh Beau, we all know you have feelings.” Molly teases, earning themself a dead arm when she punches them, they laugh through it and Caleb draws away to head to the back seat.

“Under the driver’s seat.” Bryce calls as he climbs in, gets a wordless noise of thanks.

He comes out with a shoebox-sized gift, wrapped in purple paper with gold swirl patterns and tied off with a gold ribbon. Molly doesn’t have to ask to know it’s for them.

“Ooh, private moment, off we go.” It’s Bryce to shoo everyone aside, leaving Caleb and Molly alone at the side of the car. Caleb looks down at the box, and back to Molly’s face and holds it out.

“I- for you.”

Molly takes it gently, lets their hands linger atop Caleb’s for longer than is strictly necessary, staring at the box in awe.

“Can I open it now?” they look up to meet Caleb’s eyes, the blue is so vivid in the moonlight that it pulls the breath from their lungs.

“ _Ja,_ I would like that.”

“Hold it for me?” and without waiting for an answer, Molly removes their hands knowing that Caleb won’t drop the box, moves carefully to untie the bow and pick the paper apart slowly, carefully.

“I thought that you would be a tearer, not a teaser.” Caleb chances, and Molly chuckles,

“I usually am. I just thought I’d keep some memory of you with me whilst you’re gone- look.” And they pause to pull the ribbon loose and tie it, instead, around their neck like a choker, with a bow in the front.  
“Now I’m the present.”

“And you are a perfect gift. Open, before I have to leave.” Caleb jiggles the box to them, and they go back to their picking, leaving Caleb with the opening to be distracted by just how lovely they look with the gold bow choker.

They unfold the flaps of the box, and muffle a gasp of surprise and excitement.

“Oh, Caleb. Darling. _Darling._ ”

Inside, there’s tens of little flowers, each handmade, in various sizes and formats. Some hair accessories, a few pin badges, brooches, and some just… there, loose.

Molly takes the box, sets it on top of the car and takes hold of Caleb’s hands instead, lifts them and brings them to their lips, litters little kisses across his fingers, his knuckles, the backs of his hands and Caleb lets them go at it with soft chuckles, only moving to halt them when they turn one hand over and kiss his palm.

“Alright.” He says softly, and they set their chin on his palm, instead, blinking at him innocently through long, mascara-darkened eyelashes.

Caleb is struck by the odd desire to… kiss them. Though by the Gods, he can’t figure out quire why, fool that he is.

Instead, he leans forward and gently rests his forehead to Molly’s, still holding their chin in his hand, he closes his eyes.

“I will see you soon. I’ll be there when you get home.”

“I won’t be home ‘til I see you.” Molly smiles, and Caleb exhales a little harder, clouds the air with his breath. The cold realisation that they’re going to be apart is settling on their skin like frost in mid-winter. And when the two months passes, the frost will melt too, just as winter will fade to spring.

“I’ll see you soon.” Molly breathes, and they hold for only a few more moments before they come apart and Caleb climbs into the car with Nott. The car pulls away, and in the mirror, Caleb sees the glimmer of moonlight in the tear tracks on Molly’s cheeks.

  


 

The first night that Caleb spends away from Molly is in the car, Nott falls asleep on the front seat and Caleb crawls into the back crying, pretending he isn’t.

He calls Molly.

“Missing me already, sweetheart?” Molly answers, and for a moment, all that Caleb can do is sob into the phone.

“Caleb? Are you crying?”

Caleb sniffles, “ _Nein._ ”

“Liar.” Molly teases, their smile audible in their tone, and Caleb hiccups in reply.

“I did not realise how integral you are to my life until I realised how long you’ll be gone.”

“You’ve been away a day, my dear, we’ve been apart longer.” Molly points out helpfully, wandering through to the table of the bus to pour themself some cereal. Caleb groans.

“It is the concept. Before, I have always known that it would only be a couple of days.”

Molly is quiet for so long that Caleb would assume that they’d hung up, if it wasn’t for the soft clink of the cereal bowl.

“Caleb, you know this isn’t how work partners talk?”

Caleb’s heart stutters.

“I can stop.”

“No! Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop. But do go to sleep, it’s late.”

Caleb lets out a breath that his nerves had been holding,

“Alright. _Gute Nacht,_ Molly.”

“Goodnight, lovely.”

The phone goes dead and the night turns quiet. It’s far from ideal, but hearing Molly’s voice is enough to tempt Caleb to sleep, curled in a blanket he’s sniped from the bus.

It smells like lavender.

 

It seems like those two months take years. Nott likens Caleb to a ghost multiple times, what with the mournful way he sulks around both the apartment and his place of work. It doesn’t help that he has to wait for Molly to call him most of the time, since they’re often working, training, doing the things that stars do.

Ophelia is his stand-in manager whilst Bryce is away, and she comes into his office on the first day and drops a file on his desk with a heavy _thud_.

“ _Was ist das?_ ” Caleb sits up from his research to flick through, and Ophelia’s smile quirks at one side.

“ _Ein neuer Kunde._ ” She tells him, like he didn’t already know he’d be getting a stand-in whilst Molly is away. It only takes a month for Caleb to turn them to gold. Two, max.

“Really?” Nott pulls a face, “This soon?”

Ophelia turns to her and gives the most minute, dignified shrug that Caleb has ever seen, “It will keep him from moping. _Ist das nicht richtig?_ ”

Caleb runs a hand over his face and sighs.

“ _Nein._ Miss Mardun is right, Nott, I need a focus other than Mollymauk.”

“ _Gut._ ” Ophelia crosses her arms and tilts her chin up, “As fast as possible, Widogast. Xe will be in to meet you tomorrow at one, specifically at Pumat’s restaurant. I’ve paid upfront for your lunch. Nott can go with you.”

“ _Wunderbar._ ” Caleb grunts bitterly, and Ophelia’s smirk strengthens.

“Xir contact is on the sheet. I chose xem for you based on xir similarities to Jester and Mollymauk, so even if you don’t _get along_ , you should at least be able to stand one another.”

“Well, at least there’s that.” Nott slips from her chair to come look at the file with Caleb, and Ophelia waves curtly as she leaves.

 

As it turns out, Caleb and his newest client, Dakota, can just about stand one another. He’s not surprised, Molly is a single exception in a sea of Caleb-hatred that is mostly formed by Caleb himself, but it does rather emphasise the loss.

 

“Caleb.” Fjord is surprised to see the dishevelled ginger on his doorstep. Or hear. “What’s up?”

“Nothing particularly troubling, just that Nott is with Jester, and I feel the need for some company, if that is okay?”

Fjord buzzes him up, and the first thing he says when he opens the door is,

“Missin’ Molly, huh?”

“ _Ja._ ” Caleb gives without reservation, “Very much.”

“Figures. C’mon, I got a pizza on order, hope y’ like hawaiian.”

Caleb jokingly wrinkles his nose and moves past Fjord with a pat to his arm, heads to the main room to sit.

“Molly tells me that pineapple on pizza is the work of a demon. And not the one that they are descended from.”

Fjord laughs at that,

“Yeah, they’re picky alright. They’re worth it, though.”

“Oh, _ja_ , definitely.” Caleb sits on the sofa and gets to work shedding his outer layers, “They are a gift.”

“A gift, huh?” Fjord sits on the opposite end and taps a finger to his lips like he finds something interesting, “Does that mean y’ wanna unwrap them an’ get inside?”

“ _Fjord!_ ” Caleb’s tone is scandalised for such a suggestion, “Molly is my client!”

“I’m just sayin’!” Fjord holds his hands up placatingly, and Caleb catches a glint of metal in the dim light from the ceiling lamp.

“Fjord,” he scoots over and grabs Fjord’s left hand as it flails in mid-air, “What’s this?”

 _This_ is a ring, silver and engraved with little wave patterns. There’s a sapphire set into it, and whilst it may not be the most masculine of rings, it’s very pretty and _clearly_ influenced by Jester.

When Caleb looks up to Fjord’s face to see why he hasn’t replied, he finds the half-orc flushing, almost brown in the cheeks.

“Eh- yeah. Jester an’ I, we, uh. We kinda. Got engaged.”

Caleb just. Gapes at him.

And then his phone begins to buzz with an incoming call from Nott.

“ _Caleb!_ ” She screeches as soon as he picks up, “ _Jester is going to get married!_ ”

“Well, no.” Jester’s voice comes faint in the background, “I’m just _engaged_ , I don’t know if I’d really like to get _married_.”

“I’m of th’ same opinion.” Fjord adds quietly, and Caleb just laughs quietly at the lot of it.

“Nott, I know, I’ve seen Fjord’s ring. Jester, I am very proud and happy for you. And Fjord, I’m glad that you are both on the same page.”

Fjord shrugs awkwardly.

“ _She’s engaged, Caleb!”_ Nott continues her screech, “You should see the ring! It’s so cute! It’s got little lollipops on it, and an- an-”

“Emerald.” Jester fills in helpfully.

“An _emerald!_ ” Nott screeches.

“It matches my mom’s ring.” Jester says proudly, still distant in the background, and Caleb just chuckles warmly.

“We can be surprised about this when we get home, Nott. For now, let’s spend some time with our friends, _ja?_ ”

“Okay.” oh, Caleb can _hear_ Nott’s ears drooping.

“Nott?”

“Yes, Caleb?”

“ _Ich liebe dich, Schatz._ ”

“I love you too.” She seems to have brightened with that, at least, “I’ll see you later.”

“Later.” Caleb affirms, and hangs up.

There’s a silent pause that stretches almost a long, painful minute.

“So, uh. Wanna watch a movie?”

“ _Ja, bitte._ ” Caleb smiles, and so that is exactly what they do.

  


 

 

It’s a month into the tour when Bryce sits down on their bed and folds their arms in Molly’s direction.

“Alright, I’ve had enough. Out with it, Mollymauk, what’s your fucking problem?”

Molly, on their side with their back to Bryce, just curls tighter and pretends to be asleep.

“I know you’re awake. I saw you fling your phone across the room.”

“Fuck.” Molly sits up, and Bryce holds their crossed arms and glare.

“So? What’s your problem? You’ve been looking at me like I kicked your puppy since Caleb left.”

“First, it’s Jester’s puppy, not mine, and I do think you’re a dick for kicking him.”

“He ran _under my feet._ ”

“He _flew_ fifteen feet!”

“And second?”

Molly is quiet, face sour, they look at their fiddling hands, tugging at their bracelets.

“ _Mollymauk!_ ” Bryce barks, and Molly startles,

“Because he loves you!” They reply in a shout, and lower their voice, sad and quiet, “He loves you. And you love him. And I love him.”

“You’re a fucking fool.” Bryce raises their eyebrows. “All of Wildemount knows that you’re head over heels for him.”

“ _All_ of Wildemount?”

“Well,” Bryce shifts, “All of Zadash.”

“Was the _fucking_ fool really needed?”

“Get your pet lip off of the floor, Mollymauk, face this like an adult. You’re _jealous?_ Does Caleb _know_ how you feel?”

“I’m- I’m not _subtle-_ ”

“And Caleb is as dense as a brick. Have you told him?”

Molly winces, chews their lip for a moment. They look up, Bryce is watching them expectantly, eyebrows raised,

“No.” They admit, “But- I thought you two were… a thing. You know? After the night out and the _kiss_ -”

If it is possible for Bryce to blanche, they absolutely do.

“You saw that.”

“Yeah. Other side of the dancefloor, left behind by all the lovers.”

“No wonder you were upset.” Bryce groans and puts their palm to their face. Molly makes a noise of affirmation, Bryce takes a deep, steadying breath.

“I just- I don’t know what to do.” Molly says, and their voice makes them so vulnerable in the dim light, “I’m crazy in love with him, I have been for months, and I just… don’t… know what to do.”

There’s the sound of rustling fabric, Bryce stands and makes their way over to them, sitting at their side and laying a tentative hand on their shoulder. It’s a good sign, Bryce thinks, when they don’t immediately throw it off.

“I know how you feel.” They say quietly, “You’re right. I am in love with him. But I know that I’m not what he wants, or what he needs, and I love him too much to let him try.”

Molly looks up from their fingers, and Bryce smiles weakly,

“I think what he wants is you. He just hasn’t managed to figure it out yet, I don’t think he ever really got over Astrid and Wulf.”

“Who are they?”

“Caleb’s old bandmates.” Bryce sighs and pulls their hands back to themself, “Caleb was close to them, they were in a rough situation together, and he had to leave. I don’t know much more than that myself, but I know that he has issues with long tours because of whatever happened, and the songs are part of that.”

“I knew he was in a band. He’s never told me, though.”

“He wouldn’t. He has his secrets.”

There’s a silent acknowledgement of other secrets he’s keeping, Bryce shakes their head to clear their thoughts.

“Look. If you don’t want to outright tell him you love him, then… ask him to write a song with you.”

“Funny.” Molly sniffs a laugh, “Jester gave me the same advice.”

“She’s smarter than you accredit her for.” Bryce warns, “I miss her terribly, it’s a shame she couldn’t style for you.”

“Yeah, but she got engaged to Fjord, so little victories.”

“Oh!” Bryce puts a hand to their mouth in shock, “They got _engaged_? Do you have ring pictures?”

Molly digs their phone out to show them, and it’s almost as though nothing was ever wrong.

  


 

 

It’s Molly’s last performance. Three days before they’re home, and they’re up on the stage in an excellent replica of the first dress that they’d worn on stage, after Jester had recovered the torn remainders from the green room following Caleb’s panic attack.

Caleb sits at home watching the livestream on YouTube.  
He mouths along as Molly sings and fights away the ache in his chest of missing Molly, he knows that they’ll be home soon, he knows he’ll be able to touch them, and not a show goes by where they don’t thank their manager.

Molly is just as stunning today as they ever were. They glitter all the way down, the gold around their upper arms glints in the spotlights, and they have their rose in their braid as they tend to, even when they’re in casual dress. Caleb hadn’t noticed until they’d told him.

The timezone difference between Molly and Caleb is only about five hours, but it’s just passed ten at night for them, and three in the morning for Caleb, but he doesn’t want to go to bed.  
So he curls tighter in his blankets on the sofa and watches, and falls asleep to Molly’s wonderful voice, almost like they’re singing him a lullaby in _Phoenix._

 

They’ll be home soon.

  


“We’ll be _late,_ Nott.” Caleb fusses at the door, shifting his weight from foot to foot, “They are due into the bus depot in five minutes.”

“Don’t rush perfection, Caleb.” Nott crows from the other room and he huffs something about her spending too much time with Jester.

 

It’s three days later. Molly is coming home.

 

He knows fine well that Bryce is giving them a lift back to the apartment once they’re unloaded, they don’t need him there, but Caleb _misses them_ , like he’d miss a hand, or a leg, or Nott. It’s as though part of his heart has been gone, and Caleb wants it back.

He wants _Molly_ back.

“Ready.” Nott skitters through into the hallway, straightening her new cloak- pink on the inside, technically reversible but it’s unlikely. Jester has embroidered little flowers into the pink fabric, leaving the brown plain, and Nott loves it.

“ _Gut_ , come on.” and they’re out of the apartment, down the stairs, and to Caleb’s car.

 

 

The moonlight is bright, brighter in fact than the dim night-time lights in the bus depot as Molly steps off of the bus and stretches like a cat, spreading their fingers and beaming,

“ _Zadash!_ ” They crow to the darkness, “How I’ve _missed_ you!”

“Is that all that you’ve missed?” Bryce slips out behind them, moving like a ghost, and they head to the storage lockers to release the locks. Molly follows, chuckling,

“Of course not.” and they begin to haul their bags out. They only have two, a gym bag and a suitcase, though they’re rarely the type to travel light. Bryce yanks their own bag out- a large backpack- and waves to leave the rest to Kari and Shakastë. The two turn, Molly drags their suitcase across the floor with some difficulty, and they head toward the huge metal-shutter entrance and exit, bathed in pale light.

“Are you excited to see him again?” Bryce is halfway between teasing and genuine, and Molly laughs.

“I’m… I don’t know if I’ll sleep tonight.” They admit, “It’s getting to be painful, how much I miss him.”

“Love will do that to you.” Bryce shakes their head with a smile, “Just don’t forget what I said. About the song.”

“I won’t, I definitely will not. I swear.”

“Good. Look up, Molly.”

Molly does as they’re bidden, pulls their eyes from scanning the floor for small rocks to the moon-lit entrance and finds two very familiar, near-silhouetted shapes standing there.

“Off you go. Leave your bags.” Bryce nudges, and Molly needs no more encouragement. They drop their bags and break into a run, find it matched as Caleb surges for them and they collide, Caleb wraps his arms around them and they both spin, laughing and holding so tight that bones crackle.

“Molly.” is the only word that Caleb can manage, and Molly sobs in reply, crying unrestrained into the crook of Caleb’s neck where they’ve buried their face. Their fingers are laced through Caleb’s hair and curled, prime position to tug and perfect for being possessive and desperate and clinging to him. Not that Caleb is much better, holding Molly so tight that they’re sure he’s going to leave bruises where his fingers dig into their hips.

Caleb twitches, and Molly clings ever-tighter, tugging Caleb’s hair a little accidentally, winding their tail around his thigh.

“No. No, don’t let go.”

“I’m not.” Caleb murmurs softly, turns to press his face to Molly’s neck, “Never.”

Molly doesn’t reply, just give a huge, full-body shudder and pulls themself around him tighter.

“Is Fjord home tonight?” Caleb asks quietly,

“Yeah, Jester and Beau are having a girl’s night, so...”

Caleb makes a little noise of curious disappointment. And decides to go for it anyway,

“Come home with me?”

There’s a still silence, interrupted only by Nott sidling up and hugging both of their legs, pressing her head to Caleb’s hip.

“Yes.” Molly rasps, their voice strained, “Please.”

They withdraw, slowly, keep their hands on one another, if only to convince one another that they’re real. Caleb’s hands rest at Molly’s hips, and Molly keeps theirs on Caleb’s shoulders for a moment, only a moment, smooths up to take his face in their hands.

“I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you too.”

Molly drags Caleb in and kisses his cheek. And then they do it again, and again, littering tiny kisses over Caleb’s face as though they just can’t stop- and they don’t think that they can. Everything is surging, cresting at once and all that they want is to cuddle Caleb, and not let go.

“My Caleb.” They manage in the pause between kisses, “I’m home.”

Home _is_ Caleb. Home is where Molly feels the safest, the happiest, where they feel they can make the decisions and craft the skills to give them their future. Home is where their heart is laid, and Molly has laid it into Caleb’s palms, into his cheeks and nose and hair every time they kiss there.

 

They’re home.

 

Nott isn’t all too happy about being in the back seat with Molly’s bags, but she loves Caleb more than she loves her dedications, so she lets Molly sit in the front.

Caleb holds their hand when the car waits at stoplights and Molly kisses his hand so much that their lips begin to go numb, fading into a pleasant buzzing feeling by the time the three of them climb out at Caleb’s apartment.

“Just let me grab my sleep stuff.” Molly pats Caleb’s face and shuffles through their bags in the back seat. They come out with a few things draped over their arm, and Caleb can’t help his smile.

“That’s my shirt.”

Molly looks down. It’s not even the shirt that Caleb had _given_ them, it’s a t-shirt they’d slept in just before they’d left and just… forgotten to give back.

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

Their reply might be casual, but between Caleb’s soft, amused smile and the moonlight, there’s a red-violet haze of a blush on their cheeks.

“Oh, _das ist süß._ That’s cute.”

“You’re pretty cute yourself, my darling.” Molly’s confidence shifts back in, and Nott makes a noise of complaint,

“We can flirt inside, right, Caleb? You’re not restricted to flirting outside in the cold?”

“This is not flirting.” Caleb frowns, “But it is cold. Come on, inside.” and he turns and offers his arm to Molly, who takes it and sidles up to him, shivering in their thin clothes in the late winter air.

The three of them head up to their apartment, and Nott gives them both a smug little smile.

“There’s pizza coming.”

“You ordered pizza?”

“Yeah. One pepperoni, one cheese.”

“You’re a gift.” Molly tells her, and ducks to kiss the top of her head, “Thank you.”

 _You’re a perfect gift._

Caleb blinks and sees Molly, for a split second, stood in front of him in the pale moonlight with that gold bow tied around their neck and he has to stop in the present and shudder at the little twist in his chest, like something has flipped.  
He blinks again, and the vision is gone.

The three of them curl on Caleb’s sofa and watch a movie. Caleb finds himself sandwiched between Nott and Molly, Nott is basically in his lap, he’s basically in Molly’s, their head on his shoulder and their arms around his waist- minus the quick text to Fjord- and he kisses their hair and horns every now and then, just grateful that they’re home. They’re here. They’re not home yet- tomorrow. When Caleb can leave them with Fjord and not ache like he’s losing his own heart.

They eat their pizza, Nott promises that she’ll clean up, and she shoos the two of them to bed. They both give her a hug for her efforts.

Molly stretches and settles into Caleb’s bed, propped up on one arm watching him wander his way across his room, changing, shedding layers of clothing before he’s pulled new ones out, comfortable in Molly’s presence.  
Molly, on their part, is halfway between touched that Caleb trusts them, and trying to reign in their errant thoughts about how smooth the skin of Caleb’s thighs could be.

 _It isn’t fair,_ they reason, _that he knows how soft_ **_my_ ** _thighs are._

Caleb slips into bed with them, and the two of them wind tightly together, rest their foreheads together so, so gently. There’s the soft sound of breath between the two of them for a while, and,

“I’ll bet you can’t wait to get home.” Caleb murmurs quietly, brushing his thumb against their hip, their borrowed shirt rucked a few inches. Molly gives a soft breath of laughter,

“I _am_ home.”

And they squeeze Caleb gently, close their eyes, and fall asleep.  
Caleb doesn’t understand. But he understands that he has Molly in his arms again, and that’s good enough for him.

 

Morning comes, and Caleb wakes to an empty bed and doesn’t understand why he feels like he’s about to cry. He shuffles sadly to his feet and heads out, off to the toilet to piss and finds the smell of breakfast and sound of sizzling coming from the kitchen.

 _Piss first, curiosity second_ Caleb chides himself, and follows his own directions. When he comes into the kitchen, Molly is standing by the cooker with a pan, their tail waving behind them as they hum contentedly and Caleb leans against the wall to make up for his knees near enough giving out under him.

The sizzling and the smell of food is coming from Molly cooking what appears to be crêpes, judging by the small pile of them, and Nott sitting at the counter munching happily.

Molly looks so… domestic, like this. Less like a superstar, less like a famous singer, much more like Caleb’s Mollymauk, the sweet tiefling _nervous_ about everything, about their gender, about upsetting Caleb, about the skirts and dresses and Caleb-  
He’d be lost without them.

“Morning, sweetheart. I’m sorry, didn’t mean to leave you in bed alone. Thought it’d be nice to make breakfast.”

“You are the sweetest.” Caleb shuffles toward them and headbutts their arm gently, seats himself beside Nott and watches Molly sway gently, they turn and deposit a plate of crêpes in front of him, kissing him on the cheek as they turn back. Caleb chuckles.

“I have ulterior motives.” Molly smiles, plates themself up and comes to sit beside Caleb, “About business.”

“You have fed me, I will do anything for you.” Caleb says, a forkful of sugar-lemon covered crêpe waiting to be eaten in front of him.

“I want to start working on a new album.” Molly says, rolling their first crêpe, “As soon as possible. Right away, actually! And based on how popular _Phoenix_ was, I want it to be an album of love songs.”

“Ah.” Caleb puts his fork down, his appetite suppressed now, “How goes it with the crush?”

“Still in love.” Molly smiles at their own food, “Still haven’t figured it all out, but I’m getting there.”

“ _Gut_.” Caleb lies, “I- I want only the best for you. I want you to be happy.” with honesty, this time, and Molly gives a soft breath of laughter,

“Sweetheart,” and they look up, lay a hand over Caleb’s, “I am happy.”

Caleb’s shoulders lose tension without his permission, but he finds it so hard to be tense with Molly so close. Even in Caleb’s clothes, they still smell like lavender.

“And!” Molly perks back up from their soft, affectionate smile, stabs a bit of crêpe on their fork and poises to eat it, “I wanted to ask a favour?”  
  
“ _Ja,_ anything.” Caleb watches them push their food into their mouth and the silence whilst they chew is palpable.

“Would you write a song with me?”

_What._

“I- a- a love song?”

“Yeah, that’s- that’s the next album. You mean a lot to me, and Jester let it slip that you used to write songs, and I… I want you to write a song with me.”

Caleb chews his lip.  
It could be too familiar. It could remind him of Astrid and Wulf. It could be terrible.

But he looks to Molly, and their expression is open, honest, they don’t expect him to say _yes_ no matter what. They’ll understand if he can’t.  
But Caleb would do anything for Molly.

“ _Ja_.” He says softly, and reaches for their hand, “Of course I will.”

Molly kisses his knuckles.

“Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need validation!!! tell me you like it!!!! quote your favourite lines!!!! pls!!


	12. Big Picture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter's song is:  
> [Big Picture - London Grammar](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RbUMKenn5l8)
> 
> Caleb writes a song with Molly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Formal request from the author: i _really_ wanna hear play-by-play/livewrites of your reactions to this chapter as you read it? Please? :b
> 
> (And you know the usual shower me in attention, quote your favourite parts, all that jazz)

Molly leans on Caleb’s shoulder.  
The two are sat outside Molly’s apartment, silent, no phones, no work, no words, just… time. They’ve even shifted into the back seat so they can sit closer.  
Molly’s hand brushes down Caleb’s thigh, light and gentle, and Caleb laces their fingers with his.

No words. No work. No phones.  
Just time.

 

Caleb’s brain is blissfully quiet. There is no thought at all, only the foggy sensations of the moment. White and purple haze in front of his eyes, his mind replacing his vision, he’s warm and safe, and the things he loves are safe too. Molly’s rings are cold and hard where his fingers overlap theirs, but the metal warms.

They sit in silence for so long that Fjord comes down and knocks on the window of Caleb’s car,

“Am I gonna get my roommate back any time t’day?” He calls, and Caleb smiles dimly.

“Do I need to?”

“Uh- yeah, y’do. They live here, Caleb, can’t live in y’ car.”

Molly sighs softly and draws away, pauses to kiss Caleb’s jaw as they do so.

“I’ll see you soon, my love. I’ll text you next time Fjord and Jester are going on a date, we can have the flat to ourselves for the song. I’d prefer the privacy.”

“I wholeheartedly agree.” Caleb smiles a little, and if it’s sadder than it usually is, if Molly notices, they say nothing, just duck in to kiss again at the first accessible place- Caleb’s cheek- and they scoot over him to slip out of the car and into Fjord’s space.  
They want to tell Caleb that they love him.

Nothing comes out of their mouth.

 

Molly and Fjord spend the night curled up together on the sofa, watching movies.  
Which is to say Fjord sits, and Molly sits _on him_ with their head on his shoulder and his arms around them, holding them upright.

“Y’ were gone far too long, Molly.” Fjord teases in the pause between movies, “I was startin’ to miss y’.”

“Well, I _definitely_ missed you.” Molly knocks their horn to Fjord’s jaw gently.

“Sorry I wasn’t here when y’ got back. Jester- uh- it was _meet the parents_ night. So I met her mom.”

“Oh,” Molly laughs, “I thought you were! But, oh, how did it _go_?” Molly shifts up to watch Fjord’s face, and Fjord pulls an expression that makes Molly laugh,

“About as well as it could, given that I- uh- given that her daughter an’ I had sex not ten minutes prior to leaving the house.”

“Aww, _Fjord!_ ” Molly claps joyously, “I’m so _proud!_ ”

“Shut up. How was the tour?”

“ _Incredible!_ ” Molly sighs, and flops backwards out of Fjord’s arms and onto the sofa, “Nicodranas is so _beautiful,_ I can’t believe it. You never told me it was so pretty.”

“Didn’t spend a lot o’ time there, t’ be fair.” Fjord rolls his eyes, “I lived in Port Demali, so…”

“I know, I know. Bryce says that I _might_ get there on my next tour. They’re _also_ trying to get me booked over in Tal’Dorei! And a couple of places in Marquet, though apparently that’s harder to book.”

“Can’t imagine why.” Fjord shrugs, “Plenty o’ traders, an’ the Zadash officials seem friendly enough with th’ diplomats.”

“Whatever- what’s important is that I’m a _God_.”

“Long may you reign.” Fjord rolls his eyes again, a sign of just how practiced this little back-and-forth is.

“Long may I reign.” Molly agrees with a grin.  
  
“Anythin’ new on the Caleb front?”

“Yes! Actually!” Molly slips off of Fjord and sits up, “First, Bryce- definitely in love with Caleb. But-” as Fjord winces, “- They told me that they think. Uh. They think Caleb might… feel the same. For me. And he just won’t let himself- yeah. I don’t know how much I believe them but knowing that they’re not- with Caleb? It eases the jealousy.”

“Y’ain’t told him y’ love him, then?”

“I have. But I don’t think he was awake. Or remembers.”

“Gods- _fucking-_ dammit, Molly.” Fjord puts his face in his hands, and Molly laughs nervously,

“Yeah. I know. I’m a fool.”

“Y’ certainly are. So, what’s your next step?”

Molly shrugs,

“I’ve asked Caleb to write a love song with me. It’s all I can think to do. So when you head out on a date with Jester next, I’ll get him over.”

“I’m, uh- we have movie night on Friday, I’ll be stayin’ at hers that night, too, so…”

“Got it.” Molly is already withdrawing their phone and texting Caleb, “Thank you, Fjord. I wouldn’t have come this far without you supporting me through it all.”

They lean over and wrap an arm around Fjord’s shoulders in a quick, tight hug, and Fjord chuckles,

“Yeah, well, I expect a cut of your money.”

“Anything you want.” Molly promises, and goes back to their texts.

 

**[To:] Caleb Widogast**

Fjord’s going out at 6 on Friday if you want to come over. He’s out all night, so you can stay, too.

 

**[To:] Caleb Widogast**

If you want.

 

 

**[From:] Caleb Widogast**

I can’t in good conscience leave you awake all night, now, can I?

 

Molly, in their physicality, flushes.  
They would quite like Caleb to keep them awake all night, if they’re being honest.

Just not with songwriting.

 

**[To:] Caleb Widogast**

You can keep me up if you want <3

 

 

**[From:] Caleb Widogast**

I’d rather you slept, Liebling.

 

Oh Caleb. So sweet. So innocent. So oblivious.

The urge to wreck him grows on Molly, but it’s dwarfed by the rush of love, of adoration. They love him.

 

**[To:] Caleb Widogast**

Gods, Caleb, how did you get this sweet?

 

 

**[From:] Caleb Widogast**

I will be over just before six, hopefully I can catch Fjord just before he leaves. See you then, Molly.

 

 

**[To:] Caleb Widogast**

See you soon darling x

 

Caleb puts the phone down and curls up on the sofa, doesn’t even flinch when Nott crawls on top of him and settles like a cat.

“Why are you sad?” and she makes a little clicking noise. Frumpkin comes scuffling over and jumps onto the sofa, climbs Caleb, climbs Nott, and settles himself contentedly at the top of the pile to start kneading Nott’s thigh.

“I am not sad.” Caleb grumbles from the bottom of the pile. Nott makes a noise of disbelief,

“Yes you are. Is it because Molly’s gone?”

“ _Ja_ , let’s go with that. I like having them around.”

“Why don’t they just… live here?”

Caleb sighs.

“They cannot just live here. People will talk.”

“Is that so bad? What’ll they say?”

“That we are dating. Or- or having- sexual relations.”

“You do kind of already _act_ like you’re a couple, Caleb.”

“I- no? That’s not- that’s not true. This is just- this is how normal, healthy people have- have friendships with other normal, healthy people. You said yourself that I am getting better.”

“Normal, healthy people miss their friends sadly, not like you did. You were pining.”

“I was _not_ pining!”

“You’re pining right now!”

“I am _not!_ ” Caleb exclaims, indignant, and Nott smiles.

“We’re in the cat totem. We only do this when you’re _really_ sad.” She tells him with a smug tone to her voice, “You’re pining.”

Caleb disagrees. But he can’t say anything to her without invoking a debate, so he just huffs and closes his eyes.  
The cat totem provides a lovely amount of pressure, just right, and Nott smells of leaf litter, of damp summer tarmac. She smells as much like home as the lavender does.

  
  


Friday comes, and Caleb is so nervous that he can’t keep solid food down.  
  
He sips a takeaway cup of tea, not from Starbucks, but from Clay as he makes his way down the street, heading for Molly’s apartment.  
He’d dropped in on Clay on the way over, the firbolg seems to have a tea for everything. Easing pain, sleeping easily, settling the stomach- the one Caleb has right now- and revitalising the brain, such as with ginseng.   
Hells, he even has a tea form of viagra, what else could he concoct?

He’s pleasant, and calming, and when Caleb comes in looking like he’s about to be sick, Clay comes around the counter and offers Caleb a free cup of ginger lemon tea, and a hug. Both of them, Caleb takes.

Clay is big and enveloping, his hair has grown longer since Caleb started coming here and when he stoops, as he does when he’s hugging someone much smaller than him, it forms a protective pink curtain around Caleb and holds the world and his fears temporarily at bay.  
And the tea is good, too. It’s hot, and sweet, and has just the right kind of burn.

Caleb finishes just before he turns onto Molly’s street, puts the cup in the bin and brushes himself down as he heads off toward the apartment.  
Fjord is coming out as Caleb arrives.

“Oh.” Fjord catches sight of him, “Hey, Caleb. Didn’t realise y’ were walkin’ here.”

“Ah, _ja_ , I could not drive, I- too nervous. Shaking. Not a fit state, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that. Why so nervous, though? It’s jus’ Molly, an’ if y’ain’t comfortable, they won’t use your lyrics.”

“I am more worried about writing.” Caleb admits, “It is a reminder of- of people I used to… know.”

He bites the rest of his history back behind his tongue. Fjord nods like he understands.

“You can duck out, they ain’t gonna mind. Though even if y’ don’t wanna do the song, hang out with them. They’ve been pinin’ for you somethin’ fierce.”

Caleb blushes. It’s likely a similar situation with Fjord and Molly as it is with Nott and Caleb, where Molly isn’t pining, but Fjord says that they are.

“I will be going up regardless, don’t worry. Can you let me in?”

“Yeah, hold on-” Fjord leans over and keys in the access code, “- there.”

“ _Danke._ ”

“No problem.” Fjord smirks as he inclines his head, “See y’ later.”

Caleb waves him off, and begins his walk up to Molly’s flat.

 

Molly lives on the seventh floor. Their elevator is out of order, as it always is, so Caleb takes the stairs.

 

**TO: Mollymauk Tealeaf**

I will be there soon.

 

**FROM: Mollymauk Tealeaf**

Door’s unlocked darling, code is 1684.

 

Caleb lets out a breath and smiles, and opens the door.  
It’s not the first time he’s been here. He’s still nervous. Molly looks up as he comes in, sitting cross-legged on the floor amongst a scattered pile of papers.

“Oh. You were fast, hello, sweetheart! I can’t move right now.”

“I can see.” Caleb smiles as he comes in, chuckling, “I am going to make a cup of tea first, if you do not mind? Would you like anything?”

“A coffee would be wonderful, my love.” Molly smiles, goes back to their work and Caleb smiles at the Molly-shaped blob on the floor.

(He’d intended to wear his glasses today, to avoid the headache that comes from working close-up wearing contacts. He had, unsurprisingly, forgotten his glasses.)

Caleb heads to the kitchen to make the drinks.  
He’s been here visiting Fjord enough times in Molly’s absence to know where everything is, to know that there are more types of tea in one particular cupboard than Caleb can shake a stick at. He knows how Molly takes their coffee, he takes care to make the drink the right temperature, and when he comes over to Molly, he sets it on the nearby coffee table before he turns to them.

He’s very, very glad that he’s put the drinks down.

Molly looks like they’ve been awake for hours, but perfectly cheery, their hair is tied back and put in a messy bun, they’re wearing loose sweatpants and the shirt that they’ve stolen from Caleb, and for the first time since Caleb has met them-

 

They’re not wearing makeup.

 

And dear all the Gods above, below, wherever the fuck.

  
Mollymauk Tealeaf is beautiful.

  
Not the kind of beautiful that they are on stage, with the glitter, with the dresses.  
They’re beautiful because they _are_ , they’re breathing, their tail is waving, and they’re beautiful, and Caleb loves them.

Caleb-

He loves them.

Caleb is in love with Molly.

Oh.

_Shit._

“I- um. I just need to- to take a leak.”

“Are you alright, darling? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Caleb hasn’t been in love with anyone since-  
Oh dear.

“ _Ja. Ich-_ I- I’m okay. I just-”

And he’s off, darting into the toilet and locking the door behind him, presses his back to it and stares at nothing, wide-eyed and heart beating in his chest.

 

Everything, Caleb thinks as he slides down the door, makes so much sense now.

 

He’s in love with Molly. He has been for ages, and he hasn’t let himself realise, because he won’t- not again. He can’t lose someone like that again.

But it makes sense.

The first time they’d gone out drinking together, and that little flame-bright feeling in Caleb’s drunken chest that could stain his heart, his spine, his mind a bright acrid green, the one that had spurred Caleb to intervene when someone was flirting with them.

Jealousy.

That’s what it is.

Caleb is jealous. And he’s jealous because he loves Molly.

How wordless he had been in the car that first time, when they fell asleep and Caleb was too tongue-tied because they’d touched his hand, he couldn’t keep them awake.

The first time he’d heard Molly sing and his heart had almost seized in his chest because they were so beautiful, the beginnings of a love Caleb only recognises now, when he saw them swaying slowly and making coffee _for_ him. Wonderful. Wonderful, beautiful, incredible Mollymauk Tealeaf.

  
Caleb begins to comb himself for all the signs he’s missed, categorically deciding just how stupid he really is.

  
Why he’d hurt so badly when he thought that Molly was leaving him, for one. That should have been the very first big sign.

Falling asleep on them when they fought for him.

And when they woke up, he remembers the way that he’d documented their sad little smile, the way that he’d thought of how he appreciated every little tiny smile, every part of it, the way that their genuine smiles made their eyes sparkle with mirth or mischief or pure joy, the softness when they were smiling at Caleb, even the sadness in their eyes when they were upset or bitter.

And he remembers the first time that Molly had kissed his knuckles, and how his heart had turned flips in his chest.

 

But no, no, all of this could be attributed to just how touch-starved he was. He’s not that bad. Not yet.

 

When he’d gone to Molly, on the first tour, and just laid on them for nearly two hours appreciating their company and contact. Because he’d missed them.  
Because he was pining.  
  
Oh Gods, he was pining. Nott was right.

And he’d do anything for them. He would fight tooth and nail for anything that would make them happy, he would die for anything to make them smile, and it’s all because he loves them.

 

The fixation he has when Molly leaves those pretty lipstick-marks on his cheeks and hands, the love of Molly touching him. His reaction to Molly on stage, to Molly adoring the mark that he had left on them just as they had left on him.

Oh, dear, and the time he’d woken up to Molly driving and there had been a direct address of the unnamed feeling in his chest.

He couldn’t name it at the time, just like the jealousy, but he certainly can now.

 

And Bryce had known. They’d all known! All of them! Bryce had told him that they weren’t what he wanted, what he needed, and now he realises that it was Molly all along, he doesn’t know how he ever missed it.

He goes to the sink and turns the water on as cold as it’ll go. His wrists go under, and he tries to calm his breathing.

 

He’s in love.  
Caleb is in love.

And Molly is sitting outside, worried about him, knowing about him, wanting him with them to write a _love song-_ he can’t do it. He can’t do it now, it was already- they’re so far away, and he misses them so much.

He can’t write a love song for somebody new.

He swore his heart to Wulf and Astrid years ago, he couldn’t- and there’s no way Molly could feel the same, anyway.  
  
He closes his eyes and thinks about them.

They are, without a shadow of a doubt, _perfect._ They are beautiful, and good, and popular. People like them. Everyone likes them! They could choose anyone, someone as wonderful and good as they are. Caleb could never be a contender.  
Caleb, charred by his past and still bearing the scars of a person he never was. Caleb, a runaway who couldn’t be bothered to move fast enough. Caleb, a broken porcelain figure with burns and brands littered across his back as a mark of where he was too inadequate for Trent to bear.

Molly is perfect. Pretty, and good, in heart and with people and Caleb is broken. He’s ugly, scarred and gnarled and evil. Evil in the way Trent had been. He can never shake the person he was born to be.

The cold water only helps a little, it doesn’t help the overthinking. It doesn’t stop his pain.  
Caleb’s shoulders drop back, something in his head tells him to straighten up. His chin raises, he wipes his eyes and he turns the tap off, his breath regulating. It’s not him. It doesn’t need to be.

He can write this song.

He can do this for Molly, he can do anything for Molly.

And then a niggling thought comes into his mental peripheral.

_Did Molly see him kiss Bryce?_

Could that be why they were so upset? That Caleb, who had promised them the world, would ditch them to go play lover to someone that didn’t even want him?

  
Oh _Gods,_ he has a lot to fix.

  
Here’s what Caleb decides he’s going to do:

First, he’s going to run the cold water into the plugged sink. Then, he’s going to dunk his face in it until his eyes and cheeks stop burning and appear far less red.   
Then he’s going to clean himself the _fuck_ up, and go back to Molly.

He’s going to write a love song for them. The most heartfelt, emotional thing that he can muster, he’s going to turn all of these words out onto paper in a way he could never speak with his clumsy Zemnian tongue, and he’s going to confess his love to Molly in a way that means they will never know.

And then he’s going to go home and crush the feelings out of him. He won’t allow himself even the night- he’s sure he can get Nott to say she’s sick, he hates to leave Molly awake all night but he simply- now that he knows.

Now that he knows he’s in love with Molly, there’s no way he can share their bed. With them in _his_ shirt, the scent of lavender all around him, with Molly _in his arms_ , Caleb doesn’t know that he’d be a man strong enough to resist the urge to kiss them.

 

Caleb runs the water. As it’s filling the sink, he ties his hair back with the piece of copper wire that he keeps around his wrist, keeps it from the water.  
Once it’s significantly cold and deep, he turns the water off.

And dunks his whole face into it.

The shock would have him gasping, if this were not a practiced thing, but the feeling of _oh my Gods, I am going to drown_ never truly goes away. With Caleb’s history, he doubts it ever will but it’s a time saver, he needs it and his heart is calm. He swears.

He dries his face on Molly’s hand towel when he manages to pull himself out, pats himself down and dry and takes his hair out with only the roots dampened by his encounter.  
  
He breathes.  
Three seconds in.  
Seven seconds out.

And he opens the door. Molly nearly collapses on him, stumbling from the loss of the wood against their ear and Caleb catches them reflexively, swallowing at the warmth of their skin against his hands.

“Sorry.” Molly pulls themself upright, “I- uh. I was worried.”

The beast, Caleb grimaces to himself, has been unleashed.

( _The beast_ being the desire to kiss Molly _right now_.)

“I understand. Come on, we have a song to write.”

Molly visibly perks up, beaming, excited,

“You’re still good to write with me?”

“Ah, with that face, how could I not?” Caleb smiles, and he’s being _honest._ He would give anything to make Molly smile, do anything, die if he had to. Their smile is more radiant than the sun could ever be.

Molly basically skips back to their point on the floor, their coffee half-drained on the table and a clear spot cleaned now for Caleb to nestle into with his legs crossed and tea cup in hand. It’s lukewarm, but he’s not drinking it for the tea. He’s drinking it for the distraction.

“Alright, here, have a pen-” Molly leans over and wiggles a biro at Caleb until he takes it, and like bile he swallows down the urge to hold their hand. It’s not like that’s anything new for them.

It still feels forbidden, now that Caleb knows just how not-so-innocent it is.  
Like Molly making him breakfast. Like Molly sleeping in his bed. Like waking up to Molly right there with him.  
Caleb’s traitorous heart wants everything from Molly. He wants to wake up to them every morning, he wants to see them like this, wearing sweatpants with their hair mostly uncombed and shoved hastily into a bun. He _wants_ a relationship with them.

He’s not allowed it. But he’s allowed this moment, this open moment with paper around him to spill the ink as though it’s his heart, into text, into something beautiful. He needs to make it perfect.

“I am going to scribble some notes, first, _ja?_ I have some ideas, but I am still not confident, and I need to clarify them before I give them to you.”

“Ah, yes. Like butter.” Molly nods, expression and tone serious and completely unironic, like they think that’s a perfect reaction and Caleb’s nerves can’t outmatch his little laugh.

“Like butter.” He agrees, and smiles at them. They look up and smile back, and Caleb closes his eyes to stop his heart vacating his chest by means of his airway.

He turns to his notes.

He writes poetry first. He gets a verse in before he makes a noise of disgust and scribbles it out- some honey-sweet thing about Molly being the sun to Caleb’s moon, but he can’t put a beat to it.

He tries again.

 

_They are the bright,_

_Of the sun, personified,_

 

And he scribbles it again. It’s just rewording of the poem. But it niggles at his brain so he takes himself a post-it and scrawls the whole thing on there, tucks it in his pocket and goes back to staring at the scribbled words.

Why won’t his _fucking_ brain work?   
He’s- he’s good. He’s good in Zemnian, he’s good in Common, words are his specialty when his tongue fails him- he can’t _talk_ but he can design with the best. He can sculpt and shape.

They go at it for an hour before Molly murmurs that they’re going for refills, and takes Caleb’s cup. He covers his paper as they kneel beside him to take it, and they smile at the sound.

“Look at me, Caleb.”

He does. Reluctantly, but he does, and Molly’s got their eyes closed tight, screwed up around a smile and he could kiss them. Physically, and emotionally, it wouldn’t be hard.

“Not looking.” They promise, and lean in blindly to kiss wherever they can- ends up being Caleb’s eyebrow- and off they go to the kitchen. Caleb watches them walk with his breath becoming flower blossoms in his throat, the taste of ginger falls away to lilacs and lavender climbing his windpipe like ivy.

He loves.

 

Notes, musical and otherwise begin to drip into his mind, like ink into water and he sheds his scribbled sheet for a new one. He can still taste the flowers in his breath, he can put them onto paper if he has to bleed to do so. He’ll do it for Molly.

He can _hear_ his own music in his head. He already has suggestions on his own lyrics.

It comes easily, and when it feels like those new flowers and feelings are wilting in his chest he looks up to Molly, humming and swirling around their kitchen as a zephyr, and they bloom even brighter than before.  
Four lines. Musical notation is nothing new to him, he can _hear_ the notes and he writes them, skims his fingers at the end of each line and bless his brain, bless his mind, he can hear Molly singing. He wants them to sing this.

He wants them to sing this song that he’s written to tell them that he loves them. The idea of the danger is important to him.

 

“Caleb?”

 

But he doesn’t hear, busy with his words, words that come to him easier than they have in years. Like he’s champagne and Molly has flicked the cork from his heart, he bubbles and overflows and spills himself onto the page.  
In his mind he sees himself turn to liquid like tea stains, like ink tipped and running on the paper in bursts of colour, in bursts of blood over his words and he comes to the end feeling drained. Completely, as a slashed sack of grain, he slumps over his newly completed work and gives a shuddering sigh before an equally unstable breath.

 

The world reforms around him. Molly is watching him with soft amusement, leaning their chin on their hand and smiling, eyes warm and gentle.

“Can I read?”

He can meet their eyes, but it’s like prodding a new wound, it’s tender and hurts and gives a sharp stab to his heart, he hands the paper to them.

“The- the um. Musical notation is the melody.”

Molly smiles, busy with reading. They have difficulty, Caleb knows, it will take them a while so he settles his nerves with the new, hot cup of tea that Molly has made.

It doesn’t much work for settling nerves, but it fills time.

“Oh.” Molly breathes, lowering the paper slowly, “Darling, my _darling_ , this is perfect. This- this is wonderful, Caleb- but I can’t _actually_ read musical notation.”

“You are a musician.” Caleb stares blankly, and Molly shrugs,

“I’m good at acting and mimicry, my love. I get it right out loud once, and I can do it again. Other people fix my notes for me.”

Ah, the benefits of being a multi-platinum artist.

“Well, if you look at the lines as the word _face_ -”

“I know the theory, it just won’t stick.” Molly shrugs apologetically, “Could you- could you sing it for me?”

Warning signs and bright lights flash visibly in Caleb’s vision, everything tells him to run and he ignores all of it, takes the paper from Molly’s hands gingerly and re-reads his own words, his own notation,

“I- I cannot hit the high notes as you can.”

“Pitch it an octave?”

“I… will try.” Caleb folds, and hands Molly the paper back. They pause to take his hand, they kiss his knuckles, and Caleb swallows as he closes his eyes and pulls his hand back to himself.

The silence in the room is almost deafening.   
Caleb isn’t sure what’s worse; the eerie quiet, or the way that his voice fills the room as he sings, lower than he speaks and mellow, deep, smooth and rich and Molly… stares.  
Caleb has his eyes screwed closed and his fists are balled against his thighs and he’s clearly as nervous as he comes, but he sings for Molly anyway.

It’s the first time they’ve heard him sing.

They didn’t realise he could get any more wonderful.

The lyrics alone struck Molly in the heart, but paired to the melody, with Caleb’s voice, coming from _Caleb,_ it’s so much more. It almost feels like it could be real. Like Caleb could mean these things. Like he could love them.

 

_‘I am short of breath, standing next to you,’_

 

Caleb _shakes._ He’s _terrified,_ so much rides on this, on this, on this stupid little song, on this stupid little performance, he hasn’t sung around anyone else in years. Even Nott- he waits until she leaves to train his voice, he waits until he’s alone, and Molly is here.

 

_‘I am out of my depth at this altitude.’_

 

It feels like he’s drowning.

 

_‘Like the world makes sense from your window seat,’_

 

He can’t lose Molly.

 

_‘You are beautiful, like I’ve never seen.’_

 

Molly is enraptured.  
Consequence be damned. They’re going to kiss him. They’re going to let him finish, and they’re going to kiss him. They will.

Caleb draws the song to an end, and catches his breath. He’s shaking so hard that he can feel his teeth chattering, and all thought of kissing him takes a backseat in Molly’s mind as Caleb’s eyes open, wide and terrified.

“ _Darling._ ” They give, and put as much into it as they possibly can. There’s so many words that they can’t make into sound, but they can call Caleb what he is and hope for the best of it. They crawl to him, lock their arms around his neck tight and hug him, drawing back with their hand to his cheek,  
“Caleb.” They breathe.

He can feel Molly’s breath against him, soft and warm and shallow and they’re looking at him with such reverent adoration, and Caleb’s heart snaps inside of his chest.

 

And he kisses them.

 

He surges forward like a starved man claiming his meal, presses his lips to theirs- not hard, not rough, but firm. They sigh softly against him, their hand to his cheek and his hands to their hips.  
For a moment, a split-second that stretches a hair’s-breadth from infinity, the world is right. Everything is right, and perfect, honey-sweet and warm, Molly against his mouth and in his hands.

 

And then it isn’t. And then they aren’t.

 

Caleb reels back, horrified at himself, and Molly’s hand goes instinctively to their lips. They’re on their knees, their eyes are wide and staring, and Caleb scrambles to his feet.  
“ _Tut mir leid._ ” he whispers, watching their face, and then he turns and runs for the door to the apartment, “ _Tut mir leid._ ”

 

The door slams behind him and he rushes down the stairs, Molly breaks from their reverie and runs to the doorway,

 

“Caleb! Come back, I’m sorry, I- I- I didn’t mean-!”

Caleb is gone. Stumbling down the stairs and sobbing, and when Molly realises that he isn’t coming back, they come in, close the door, and slide down.

 

Outside on the street, Caleb pauses in an alleyway. He slips down the wall and he cries.

 

In their apartment, Molly sobs into their hands.

 

A thought is shared between the two.

 

 

_I really fucked up this time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry!
> 
> Song that 'Caleb' writes is [](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E6PmCym6eF4)


	13. The Moon Asked The Crow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter's Song is:  
> [The Moon Asked The Crow - CocoRosie](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D5C88GrQrsg)

Caleb composes every bit of self control as he presses the call button. He wills his breathing to deepen and mellow, wills his voice not to be thick and jutters, wishes himself not to have made, to have been a mistake.

It rings.

And it rings.

And just when he’s ready to give up and cry again, Beau finally, _finally_ answers.

  
“Better be important, Caleb, I’m kinda in th’ middle of somethin’ here.” She warns.

  
What she is in the middle of, incidentally, is making out with Yasha. She’s sat almost directly in Yasha’s lap, twisting irritably to take the call.  
(It had been Yasha that she demanded that she answer it when she saw it was Caleb. So it’s not wholly his fault.)

  
“Beau, I need you to come and get me.” His voice doesn’t shake. It’s perfectly even and measured, like the head of a beer skimmed off and still bubbling, dangerous just underneath.

“Aw, fuck, Caleb, c’mon! You can’t ask someone else? Nott? Bryce? Molly?”

“No.” Caleb answers, dangerously calm and honest, “I need you to come and get me.”

“Caleb, I am trying to get some.” Beau grunts, “You- hey- hey!”

There’s a scuffling noise, and some muffled debate, and then Yasha’s sweet, soft voice comes through the phone, tinted with concern,

“Caleb? What’s wrong.”

Caleb opens his mouth to reply, and instead of words, what comes out of him is a strangled sob, and a lot more tears. All of his linguistic ability disappears, and Yasha makes a soft, wordless sound of surprise.

“Alright, we’re coming for you, Caleb, don’t worry. Beau can track your phone, so I’m going to hang up, and call you back on _my_ phone. You need to answer, okay?”

There’s a pause of only sobbing, Caleb curls into himself and Yasha hums worriedly.

“That’s all I can do. We’ll be there soon.”

Beau had sprung from her lap the moment Caleb started ugly crying into the phone, and she comes back now with both of their coats and boots swinging from her fingertips.

“We love you.”

And Yasha hangs up on Beau’s phone, scrambles for her own instead, yanking her jacket on as quick as she possibly can. She calls Caleb back, and Beau loads up the tracker app.  
It’s something Caleb is fully aware of, and Beau knows enough of his history to understand what a show of trust it is, the ability to trace where he wanders. It comes in handy in situations like this, where he panics and runs and nobody knows where to find him.  
Yasha talks soothingly to a mute Caleb over the phone even as they rush down the stairs, she clips her phone into the hands-free holder in her car to keep it up, Beau gives her quiet directions and they crawl along the streets of Zadash.

 

 

They’re on Molly’s street when Beau murmurs to Yasha to stop. She climbs out, leaves Yasha in the car and pads along to the alley on foot, unsurprised when she turns to find a puddle of Caleb, weeping on the floor.

“Yeah, fuck, alright. I’m here, Caleb.” She announces, and scoots over to him, crouches as his side and tucks her phone away to put a hand to his forehead, testing his temperature. He shakes and says nothing.

“Right. Yasha has the car, we’re taking you back to her place to chill, alright? It’s just out of the alley. She’s waiting.”

Caleb flinches at the idea of leaving the alleyway.

“I’ll be right here, yeah? Just- what side d’you want me on?”

Caleb’s left hand twitches, violently, and Beau nods.

“Left. Alright.”

Between Caleb and Molly’s apartment. Whatever they’ve done to him, she’s going to _fucking eviscerate them.  
_ She puts a hand on his elbow, an arm across his back, and guides him to his feet.

“C’mon.”

He comes.  
They move quickly on the open pavement and she tucks him into the back of Yasha’s car seething silently that Molly could do this. That they could be so heartless.

It doesn’t matter _what_ they’ve done.

Caleb sobs like a broken man as she leans across to clip his seatbelt in place wishing that she knew how to comfort like her friends but she doesn’t. That’s not who she is.  
She claps a hand on his shoulder for a moment before stepping back and closing the door.

 

 

Caleb sits on Yasha’s sofa staring into his cup of tea with empty eyes, and the girls sit piled on the other end watching him and sharing concerned glances.

“Cay, you wanna tell us what’s up? Can we help?”

Caleb shakes his head slowly. He can’t make the words come to his throat. He’s spilled them all onto the paper that Molly is likely throwing in the bin as he sits here.

 

Why did he have to fall in love?

 

“You said you didn’t want Nott, yeah? Is she not expecting you home tonight?”

Caleb shakes his head again and Beau pulls a face. Turns, instead, to Yasha.

“Hey, we don’t know how long he’s gonna be non-verbal, yeah? I don’t- I don’t know how to handle this.”

Yasha scoots from the chair, slipping Beau from her lap to the cushion and comes to kneel in front of Caleb.

“Do you want to stay with me and Beau tonight?”

Caleb’s hesitation makes Yasha smile a little,

“We won’t make you talk. You can just come to us if you need anything.”

Caleb lets out a soft breath and nods. Slow, careful, but he nods.

“Text Nott to let her know you’re okay. You know she worries, even if she doesn’t know what’s going on.”

Caleb nods again, a little firmer this time, and Yasha stands again,

“I’ll make the spare room presentable.”

She’s gone before Caleb can breathe, the breeze that follows her sweeping his lungs with cool, clear air.  
Caleb starts to cry again, and neither of the girls can react in any way to make him better.

  


Fjord won’t pick up his phone.

Molly knows, logically, it’s probably turned off. They call Jester, and she hangs up on them without answering. He calls Yasha, and her phone is engaged.  
For a ridiculously long time.

They stop calling.

 

They are alone, and they were stupid to ever believe that they weren’t.

 

They curl on the floor amongst the papers, the last memory of Caleb in their heart, there’s no way that they can fix this. Not after they _kissed him_. Not after he’d run out like that.  
They curse Bryce and Fjord and everyone else in their periphery for daring to let them believe that Caleb might love them as they love him.  
They sob into Caleb’s shirt, surrounded by Caleb’s notation and scribbles.  
Alone in their home, feeling hollowed out and cold and they cry themself to a sleep full of nightmares that wake them three hours later when the sky is darkened and nothing is alive but them.

They rush to their toilet to be sick, and stay in that position for the rest of the night.

 

 

Fjord comes home around nine thirty the following morning, to papers scattered all across the floor and the door to the bedroom he shares with Molly wide open. Inside, the curtains are open, flooding the bedroom with light and highlighting the clear absence of Caleb and Mollymauk.  
Fjord makes a noise of disgust. Molly has got to be around here somewhere, the front door was unlocked, and they’re _paranoid_ about locks.

“Molly!” He calls through the flat irritably, “You couldn’t have fuckin’ cleaned up a little before y’ got to business?”

He ditches his overnight bag at the kitchen counter to return to in a moment and wanders on, stacking up some of the papers, catching sight of Caleb’s spidery handwriting.  
He reads Caleb’s lyrics and smiles.

Seems that he’s finally realised. Good.

“Molly? Godsfuck, you can’t hide from your shit!”

There’s a soft sound from the toilet. The door is wide open, and Fjord edges toward it nervously.

“Molly?”

There’s a hiccup and Fjord peeks around the door to find Molly, leaning on the bowl of the toilet with half of their hair loose from the bun, tugged damp around them with sweat and they dry sob, hiccuping, looking thoroughly delirious.

“Holy _shit,_ Molly!” Fjord is at their side in an instant, scooping them gently from the floor and they turn into his shoulder and sob.

“Why didn’t you come?” They croak, voice broken from the sobs and the screams and the sickness, “Why’d you leave me?”

“I- I- I’m _sorry_ , I thought Caleb was stayin’-”

Molly wails at Caleb’s name, and Fjord swallows nervously at the theories that follow, he carries them out of the bathroom and through into their bedroom, instead, cradling their form in one arm as he tugs the curtains closed.

“Why’d you leave me?” Molly bubbles exhaustedly, tears clouding their eyes and Fjord settles them on the bed, climbs up behind them kicking his boots off.

“‘M sorry, Molly. C’mon, now. Get some sleep.”

“Why did you lie?” Molly wails, quiet and weak, “You made me believe I wasn’t alone. You made me believe I could love Caleb.”

“Sleep now, Molly. It’s alright. Everythin’ else can wait ‘til later.”

“You lied.” Molly sobs, patting Fjord’s shoulder with a closed fist, a pathetic imitation of their usually ferocious fights, “You _lied._ ”

Fjord cradles them close and holds them there until they fall asleep.

 

 

“No, Beau, fuckin’- _listen,_ I don’t give a _shit-_ no. Yeah. Huh.”

Fjord is not quiet on the phone. He seems to forget that he’s speaking basically directly into Beau’s ear.  
Molly is getting half a conversation from the bedroom, propped against the headboard trying valiantly to eat a bowl of soup, and failing just as dramatically as they make the effort.

“I guess. Maybe y’ should text- yeah. Yeah, what Yasha said. Listen, I don’t want this overheard so- yeah I’ll- yeah. Yeah okay. Bye.”

Fjord comes back into the bedroom sighing, and Molly’s face scrunches with the effort not to cry just seeing his face.  
They can’t shake how alone they’d been.  
They can’t shake how they’d felt. It’s going to haunt them for a long time, but in a day or so they’ll be able to pretend that they’re perfectly fine. They have always had a knack for acting.

The thought of doing so makes them feel sick, though, and they put the soup bowl on the side, looking at it makes them feel queasy.

“What happened, Molly?”

It’s mid-afternoon Saturday, Molly slept themself through about six hours before they forced themself awake, screaming at nightmares of shallow graves. Fjord feels guilt as heavy in his veins as lead would be. Like mercury running through his heart.  
Molly sighs.

“I kissed Caleb. I looked at him, he wrote- he wrote a song, a beautiful song and I asked him to sing it. And I kissed him. I don’t- I didn’t give myself the permission, it just- it happened and he ran. I’ve ruined _everything_ , and then I was alone. I called you and your phone was off, I called Jester and she rejected my call, I called Yasha and her phone was engaged and I was alone.”

“Molly. Look at me.” Fjord forces the focus back into their eyes and they look at his face, his own amber eyes worried and wide, “What are y’ going to do?”

“I’m going to text Bryce. I’m going to tell them what I did, and ask for a new manager so Caleb doesn’t have to deal with me.”

Fjord watches the pain that flickers across their eyes,

“Ain’t their anythin’ else you could do?”

“Yeah. I could kill myself.” Molly gives a bitter bark, and Fjord’s frown deepens,

“None o’ that.”

“Why not?” Molly sighs, closes their eyes, “What have I got left?”

“Your career. Me. Yasha. Even though we weren’t around, we do love you, it was just shitty timing. It wasn’t on purpose.”

“I know it wasn’t up here.” Molly taps their head, “But- but I don’t.”

“I understand.” in theory. He does.

“No you don’t.” in practice. He doesn’t.

“Text Bryce, then.” Fjord sighs, and scuffles his way into bed, his phone in his hands, “I’m right here if you need me.”

A tense, quiet silence passes.

“Thank you.” Molly whispers, and Fjord shuffles until his head leans half into their side.

  


Caleb gets a text from Bryce midday on Sunday.

 

**FROM: Bryce**

Come in tomorrow for about midday, I have progress reviews to discuss with you.

 

That isn’t their tone. This isn’t normal. Molly has complained about him, he’s going to get fired, and he can’t even muster the will to care because he’s numb. Nott hasn’t been able to coax a single word from him since he got home.

She gives him food, and tea, and tissues when he cries, but even Frumpkin isn’t allowed close.

 

**TO: Bryce**

Will do.

 

He curls into a ball and waits until he grows exhausted and bone-chill cold enough to sleep.  
It takes hours, and it passes like seconds and infinity.

  
  


Caleb claws his way to the staff room just before midday, he needs a coffee before he meets with Bryce, he can’t face this without it.  
Even Nott isn’t here. He’s told her he’s facing this one on his own and she’d looked concerned, terrified, but it was the first thing he’d said since coming home. She couldn’t argue.

 _If you’re sure…_ rings in her shrill voice in his head.

 _I’m sure._ He hears himself too confident. He’s already on the precipice of crying, rounding the corner into the staff room.

 

Molly is sitting on the couch.

 

Their hair is messy and greasy, they’re facing away from him but he can tell from their shoulders that they’re terrified, or worried, it amounts to the same.

Someone shoves at the small of his back and he goes stumbling into the staff room, the briefest glance over his shoulder sees Bryce closing the door, locking it behind them, and Molly turns.

Oh.  
They’re a mess.

A beautiful mess, as always, but a true mess, with their makeup done but smudged, tracking down their face like they’d tried not to cry- which is accurate- and their hair isn’t even styled. Just messy, and greasy, and loose around their shoulders. They’re wearing one of Fjord’s sweatshirts.  
And their eyes are wide as they see him.

“Caleb.” They say, and their cup is put down with a clatter as they stand.

Damn Bryce for setting this up.

“Caleb- I’m so- I’m-”

And they burst into tears.

“ _Nein_ , Mollymauk, no. Don’t cry. Please.”

As instinct, Caleb moves, edges closer, Molly sinks to the floor and sobs,and Caleb just _can’t_ stand and watch, he moves toward them and kneels at their side, his fingertips light at their shoulder and they turn into him, sobbing into his shoulder,

“Can- can I hug you? Is that-?”

“ _Ja_ , of course you can.”

Molly cuddles closer, their brain doing flips in their skull,

“Caleb I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, I was- I’m weak, I’m _sorry_.”

Caleb wraps his arms around their shoulders, momentarily speechless,

“Why are you sorry? I should be- I am- I’m sorry.”

“I kissed you.” Molly chokes into his shoulder, “I kissed you, and you ran, I’m sorry-”

“No, I- I kissed _you_.” Caleb’s voice is full of bewilderment, “I kissed you, and I thought that you would hate me.”

Molly’s sobs quiet, coming in little hiccups they draw away, their arms still tight around Caleb’s waist,

“You- um. You _wanted_ to kiss me?”

“I- I- _Ja._ It’s… unprofessional. And I’m sorry. It was something of a shock, I- I realised I had… feelings, for you, and that I have been jealous for a significant amount of time. In the bar, of your fans, of the person that you are in love with-”

“Caleb, that’s _you._ ” Molly interrupts, “It was _you_ I wrote _Phoenix_ for. It was you. It _is_ you. _You’re_ the one I fell in love with.”

Caleb just sort of… blinks. Silent, shocked, that Molly, perfect, wonderful Molly, is here in his arms and telling him.

They’re in love with him.

“Per- perhaps we could make another attempt at- at that kiss?”

Molly chuckles, still watery, still hiccupy, but they cup Caleb’s jaw gently with one hand,

“Are you sure?”

“Molly.” Caleb says softly, “Please. Please kiss me.”

And they oblige.

They are warm, and sweet against Caleb’s mouth, their skin is hot against his own, he holds bruisingly tight to their hip with one hand, the other slips into their knotted, messy hair and holds fast there.

They draw apart again with their breath hot and fast between them.

“Oh my Gods.” Molly dissolves into giggles, shifting to hold Caleb by the hips and pull him closer, “Oh, my _Gods._ ”

“Is everything okay?”

“Caleb, for _months_ I’ve been daydreaming about that. About just being able to kiss you. You’re _mine,_ my Caleb. Can I do that again?”

“ _Ja._ ”

They press in and kiss him again. And again, and again, until the space for breath gets small enough to hurt their lungs.

“Wonderful.” Molly gasps, barely pulling their lips from Caleb’s, “You’re wonderful.”

“ _Ja,_ you are not so bad yourself.” Caleb laughs, and Molly pulls him close, not to kiss again, just to be _closer._

“Caleb, would you- would you maybe want to go on a date? With me? See if this can- if we could make a relationship from this?”

“A date sounds… wonderful.” Caleb smiles, and leans to kiss them lightly, quickly again, “what do you suggest?”

“I don’t want this to be public. I don’t want to lose my marketing, and I don’t want the pressure, so- how about… here. In the staff room. Instant noodle pots, some music, I’ll even make you dance with me?”

“That sounds perfect.” Caleb says, complete honesty in his tone and he kisses Molly again, “I would love to go on a date with you.”

“Thank you.” Molly smiles at him, and tilts to rest their forehead to his, soft and gentle. “You should probably text Bryce, though.

“Probably.” Caleb agrees, and makes no move to do so.

They’re quiet like that for a while, letting the moment sink in, letting it make everything okay again, but there’s still something that catches for Molly. Something not quite right.

“When- when you left-”

“I’m sorry.”

“I understand, just- when you left… I was. A mess. I am a mess, but I was _a mess_. Surprisingly, turns out running from your problems? Makes them worse.”

“What happened?”

Molly opens their mouth and finds no words coming to their lips. They swallow, and try again, their voice rough,

“I- I thought it was… my fault. I thought I’d screwed everything up. I didn’t want to be alone, so I tried to call Fjord, and his phone was off. I tried to call Jester, she rejected the call. I tried to call Yasha, and her phone was engaged for nearly an hour.”

“That was me.” Caleb winces, “She was looking for me.”

“It felt like I’d lost everyone at once.” Molly shakes their head, and Caleb taps their hands, an invitation for them to hold, and they do. They lace their fingers with Caleb’s and cling to him as they would a lifeline.

“Molly?” Caleb asks gently, and Molly looks up from their knees to meet his eyes, “Can I kiss you again?”

“Darling, you don’t have to ask.” They lean in for him and feel the breath of laughter before he kisses them, brief and gentle.

“I like to.” Caleb says, as he draws slowly away, “Especially when you’re upset. I like to know it’s okay _before_ I do it.”

“There is never any time that I don’t want you to kiss me.” Molly’s smile is mischievous, “I _promise_.”

“I can still ask. May I?”

“ _Please._ ”

So Caleb kisses them, his own anxieties cling to his shoulders and try to pull him back, they try to tell him that Molly doesn’t want this, but then Molly’s hands loose from his own and wind around his neck instead. The heat of their skin dispels whatever doubt Caleb could ever have had.  
They are warm and gentle against him, and all he wants is to be closer. So he pulls Molly into his lap, instead, hears and feels as they hum and he can’t stop himself smiling into their kiss.

Molly sighs when they part, and cuddles into Caleb, tucks their head on his shoulder in the same practiced way that they always have, careful of their horns.

“About that date.” They say, murmur more than anything, “I’ll do the coffee, you do the noodles, we’ll put the radio on?”

“ _Ja,_ sounds good.”

Molly squeezes him briefly, and clambers off, heads to the coffee machine as Caleb tugs himself from the floor and goes to work on the noodles.  
They bump a few times as they move around, collecting various bits, and every time he’s within range of them, Molly darts in and kisses Caleb quickly before they move onward.

The noodles are cooked, the coffee is made, the two of them come to the sofa and set their cups and bowls down, their cutlery beside it, sit side-by-side.  
The weather outside is cold and grey and wet, the last remnants of winter clinging to the coming spring for all that its life is worth. The emptiness of the expanse of sky helps to make the dim yellow lights in here brighter, makes the room warmer, more inviting, Molly cuddles into Caleb’s side.

Caleb puts an arm around them and breathes the smell of noodles and coffee and lavender, filling him to the brim. He can’t believe just how easily he’d missed that he wants this, that he wants Molly.

“I have not had a relationship in some time.” Caleb murmurs quietly, “I don’t remember at what point it’s supposed to be a _relationship_ as opposed to dating.”

“Well, you’re talking to the wrong problem about this person. Person about this problem.”

Caleb chuckles and turns to kiss them, gentle and loving. Molly smiles and presses against him gently,

“You’re the first person I’ve ever fallen in love with.” Molly shrugs against him, “I’ve never been in a relationship before.”

“You’re in love with me?”

Caleb’s voice is soft, concerned, and Molly lifts their head from his shoulder to look at him,

“I think so.” they answer truthfully, “I think I- I want to be sure, before I say it to you. I don’t want to lie to you.”

“I don’t want to lie to you either.” Caleb answers in that same quiet voice, and he reaches to take Molly’s hand. They lace their fingers with his.

“Let’s worry about that later, my darling.” Molly’s voice is bright and sweet, “We have a date.”

“ _Ja_ , we do.” Caleb kisses them, quickly, and they move onto their food and drink. It’s the first solid food that Molly has managed to eat since Friday, and they scarf it down as quick as they can, so fast in fact that Caleb has to laugh and put his hand on theirs,

“Slow down, _Schatz,_ you will give yourself a stomach ache.”

“I’m _hungry_.” Molly pouts, “I haven’t eaten in a couple of days.”

“I have had trouble, too.” Caleb smiles, distant and a little sad, “But you still must slow down. How can we dance if you feel sick?”

“Good point.” Molly faux-sighs, and goes back to their food, slower this time.

They chatter over their food about completely irrelevant things. Like how scandalised Nott looks when Caleb forces her to take a bath or a shower. Or how exasperated Fjord is by mess, which Molly is made of.  
They slowly edge onto the territory of Bryce.

“I saw you kissing them at the bar that time.” Molly admits, “So I did the only thing I knew- I got blind drunk and pretended my problems didn’t exist.”

“Molly. _Schatz. Mein Schatz._ ”

“It’s okay.” Molly says softly, and reaches out to brush their thumb over the back of Caleb’s knuckles, smiling, “We’re here now. We made it.”

“Despite my stupidity, _ja_.” Caleb chuckles, and Molly gives a breath of laughter.

“Yeah, I can’t argue. I realised I had feelings for you… about six months ago. Managed to keep the urge in. How long had you known?”  
  
“Um… about an hour and a half.”

“And you kissed me.”

“And I kissed you.” Caleb agrees with a sort of half-smile. “I am the mess.”

“Ah,” Molly smiles, leans in to him, “But you’re my mess.”

Caleb leans over the last little gap and presses his lips to theirs again, like neither of them can quite get enough of the sensation.

“How’s the noodles?” Molly questions as they settle back,

“Finished.” Caleb smiles and displays the bowl, and Molly takes it from him to put it on the table.

“Let’s let it settle for a bit before we get up to anything physical, hm?” Molly pulls their arms up around Caleb’s neck and cuddles into him.

“Implications, Mollymauk.”

Molly smiles, tilts their head like they’re scrutinising him.

“Later, maybe. If you’re interested?”

Caleb’s breath catches.  
He’s not a child, he’s a grown-ass man capable of having conversations of a sexual nature, but for some reason the idea of discussing himself, _Caleb Widogast,_ actually having sex with Molly is… terrifying. And feels unrealistic.

“There’s no pressure, love, I did kind of get the asexual vibe from you.”

“No!” Caleb says hurriedly, “I mean- yes, I would- I would consider myself asexual. I have never experienced any kind of sexual attraction, even as a teenager. But I’m not- I don’t think that I would necessarily be opposed. Just… I would rather not consider this concept… now. Early. I want to know that I- my feelings. First.”

“Of course.” Molly presses their face to Caleb’s neck, “And you know I’ll still treasure you, no matter what.”

It’s phrased as a statement, not a question. Like _Molly_ is trusting Caleb to trust them.  
Somehow, with that phrasing, it’s impossible not to believe them.

 

They wait about half an hour.  
  
Nobody comes to the staff room. Nobody even wiggles the handle. It’s Molly and Caleb, locked in together cuddled on the sofa in quiet contemplation.  
Bryce hasn’t even _read_ Caleb’s text yet.  
Not that it bothers Caleb any- he’s happy to just sit here with Molly and cuddle the time away.

It doesn’t feel all that much different to before, if he’s honest. There’s no difference between Molly, his friend and client cuddling up to him on the sofa, and Molly, the tiefling that he’s dating who is cuddling up to him on the sofa.

“How’re you feeling?” Molly asks, sits up to look at Caleb’s face, “How’s the food settled?”

“ _Ja,_ I- I feel okay. It’s okay.”

“Up for that dance?” Molly’s smile curls at the edges in the most perfect way, and Caleb can’t resist the urge to press another kiss to those lips.

“Let’s do it. Though I would rather not have the radio on? I don’t want to risk ruining this with a panic attack.”

“First,” Molly holds out a finger as they stand, “You don’t ruin things like that. Don’t think that way, if you can’t manage it for everything, please. Remember it doesn’t apply to me. And I can remind you of that as much as you like.”

“Thank you.” Caleb stands beside them.

“Second, there’s a copy of the album on my phone. We can use that.”

“That would be perfect.” Caleb feels himself slacken with relief, and Molly smiles bright at him,

“You get the music, I’ll ready the dancefloor.”

They hand Caleb their phone and get to work moving the table and clearing their bowls and such away. Caleb fiddles about until he manages to get the album up and playing, sets Molly’s phone speaker-up on the arm of the sofa. Molly turns and smiles at him, offering their hand,

“Caleb, would you do me the honour of dancing with me?”

Caleb takes a moment to study them and realise all over again how much he loves Mollymauk Tealeaf. With their hair a mess and their eyes tired, but their smile lights the crimson with soft love and adoration, and Caleb wants to kiss them, wants to hold them, _wants them._

He takes their hand.

“The honour is mine.”

Molly pulls them in, and they begin a somewhat clumsy waltz around the newly-cleared centre of the room. Molly, clearly, has never learned to dance like this, they put their feet wrong and step on Caleb’s toes, but he doesn’t care. He could not possibly care less, in fact, because it’s Molly.  
They snort with laughter, pull tight to one another as they spin and move, and Molly slowly gets better at the dance, with Caleb leading and drawing and he even, once, dips Molly.

From their place bent over backwards, Molly finds themself utterly breathless.  
They give a soft, emphatic, “ _Caleb._ ” And Caleb kisses them.

Lightly, in the dip, but pulls them upright to a much harder, fiercer kiss, more possessive, and Molly responds by nipping at Caleb’s bottom lip.

The hunger fades, slowly, back into slow warmth and they move together again, breathless and laughing and they are both so caught up in one another that they don’t hear Caleb’s phone vibrate

 

**FROM: Bryce**

You best not be lying to get out of this.

 

**FROM: Bryce**

Fine. I’m coming. But know that you dragged me away from Clay for this.

 

Molly and Caleb don’t hear it. They don’t hear the door unlock, they don’t see it open, they don’t see Bryce smiling serenely as they lean against the doorjamb, watching the two absolute fools as they dance together, sharing quick kisses like lifelong lovers.

 

They text Nott.

 

**[TO: Nott]**

Caleb and Molly kissed and made up.

 

**[FROM: Nott]**

It’s about time!!! Thanks bryce i know this cant have been easy

 

**[TO: Nott]**

Actually, I think that this was one of the easiest things I’ve ever done.

 

There’s a pause, almost a song’s length of time before she replies.

 

**[FROM: Nott]**

gay

 


	14. Dead Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is:  
> [Dead Hearts - Stars](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OQT2HVfxJu4)
> 
>  **All This and Heaven Too will likely be on hiatus until the end of November.** There may be one update midway through the month, if I can catch some time to work on whilst I'm working on nano, but otherwise,,,  
>  You've been warned!

Movie night at Caleb’s flat has become something of a habit, now.

Molly’s, if Fjord’s out with Jester, and occasionally they’ll have “dates” at work (which consist of the staff room, where they can cuddle, or Clay’s place, where they can’t) but mostly, movie night at Caleb’s, featuring Nott.  
She’s good and quiet and only grilled Molly a little bit when they first came over and flung themself into a kiss, but she’s there, and neither Molly nor Caleb would have it any other way. Caleb and Nott are a package sort of deal. Calebandnott. Nottandcaleb.

It’s not often, but yes, occasionally, Molly will fall asleep on Caleb. Usually leaning up against his chest on the sofa, just… slowly fading until their breathing slows and stretches, and Caleb runs his fingers through their hair and sighs.

He’s already fairly sure, he thinks, that he’s in love with Molly. Every date, every kiss, it just solidifies what Caleb knows. _Knows_.

 

He _knows_ he’s in love with Molly.

 

The certainty hits him with the force of a small train one night at Molly’s place, with Molly laid on their stomach on top of him, their arms tucked in the little bit of space the arch of his spine makes.

“Hm. Molly?”

“Yes, darling?” Molly lifts their head, and Caleb’s spine pops with the effort of bending to kiss them hard. Molly chuckles into the kiss and presses back, alleviates the pressure on Caleb a little and Caleb chokes to find his breath.

“What warranted that, hm?” Molly’s smile is even more devious when it’s visible and not pressed against his mouth.

“Does there need to be a reason?”

“Of course not, my darling.” Molly purrs, and pulls their arms from under him so they can fold them on his chest and lay their chin atop their forearms, their tail waving lazily in the air behind them.

Caleb loves them. From the tip of that one curled lock of hair across their face all the way to the spade-tip of their tail. Caleb loves them.

“You are so wonderful, Molly.” Caleb whispers, like saying it any louder will be too much, and Molly blinks slowly at him.

It’s so much easier to believe coming from Caleb.

“As are you.” and a smile, “I was- hm. I had an idea. I don’t know if it’s such a good one, though, now that I think about it.”

“Well, you can tell me, and we can decide together, _ja?_ ”

Molly gives a hum of placated agreement and presses another quick kiss to him.

“That song that you wrote. Was- uh. Was it about me?”

“Did you think that it could possibly be about anything or anyone else?” Caleb does that little frown of disbelief that sends Molly’s heart spiralling in their chest. They love this expression on Caleb, like he’s utterly bewildered at the fact that Molly can doubt, like he truly believes they’re beautiful. They love the way the little crease forms between his brows, they love his little smile to assure them he’s not serious, and they love him.

“It was so beautiful.” Molly muses, “I can’t believe that you could think that much of me.”

“I think all of that and more.” Caleb lifts a hand to gently stroke across the peacock feather on Molly’s face. They press lovingly into his touch.

“Well. That song, I thought- Caleb, your singing, your voice, it’s- it’s so beautiful.” Molly’s eyes are wide with their honesty, “I thought maybe we could… sing it together? Release it?”

Caleb’s brow creases again, more thoughtful this time than anything.

“I- I- As much as, I would love to. I think that perhaps it would be best to put it off, for now. To avoid the press.”

“That was my thinking, too.” Molly nods, “But if we decide we want to move into a relationship, if we decide to go public- maybe we can re-assess the idea.”

“I would like that.” Caleb leans in to offer a kiss that Molly takes, “And I would like if we also just… sang it. No recordings, I just- singing is- personal. To the both of us.”

Molly sits up. Caleb pouts at the loss of their warmth, but follows, they kneel in front of him on the sofa.

“Now?” They ask quietly, and Caleb blinks,

“If- if you have the lyrics so that I can re-read them. I would be willing.”

“Willing, or wanting?”

“I want to.” Caleb clarifies, and offers his hand to Molly. They take it, careful, gentle, and hold for a moment before they scramble off to find Caleb’s notes.

The two of them sit side-by-side, skim-reading, until Caleb takes a deep breath and Molly sets the papers aside.

“Ready?” They ask him softly, and when he nods, “You start it.”

Caleb evens his breathing. He thinks, breathes, and begins, and Molly falls in love all over again.  
Molly joins in on the second line. They take a moment to adjust, to harmonise, it’s a hell of an effort but they find the right note for it. For him.

 

The room fills.

 

All of the warmth between the two of them expands and spreads like it’s lighting each corner of Molly’s main room. When they look at Caleb, his eyes are closed, like he’s concentrating and Caleb- he wants to look at Molly. Really, he does, but-

He can’t.

Because they make his heart jump in his chest and pull all of the air from his lungs, everything about them is perfect, and they’re _his_ . He wants to kiss them, and he _can_ , because Molly is his, he is Molly’s, and when the song draws to a close he takes them by the shoulders and pulls them back, so they collapse atop him, laughing.

“Darling,” They manage through their bouncing, “ _Eager_.”

“ _Ja_.” Caleb almost growls as he uses their horns to pull them down to kiss him.

They lie there like that, for a while, exchanging kisses that get progressively lazier, until they’re both so tired they have to stop and Molly tucks their face into Caleb’s neck.

“You’re alright with me lying on you, yeah?”

“As always, _Schatz_.” Caleb kisses their hair and relaxes himself, closes his eyes.

It’s rare that Caleb falls asleep before Molly, but he does tonight. Molly hears him fade off whilst they themself are midway through a bit of a breakdown about just how important Caleb is to them.

The idea that at the end of this little thing they’re doing, the dates, the testing, that Caleb might not love them as they love him- it’s terrifying. And they don’t want to think about it.

So they tuck their face into the crook of Caleb’s neck and kiss there,

“I love you.” They whisper to him, even though he’s asleep, even though he can’t hear it. “I love you.”

  
  


 

They keep the rhythm going for a good couple of weeks before Caleb’s first real bad brain day. It comes partially as Molly’s fault, though neither blame them for it, and the day goes something like this.

 

At midday, they meet at Clay’s place. They sit opposite one another on the table, and express their affection through slow blinks, rather than kisses and touches like they wish they could but they know that there’s press outside- held off only by Clay’s imposing firbolg form- and they can’t risk it.  
It doesn’t stop Caleb texting Molly a little purple love heart, though, and watching the smile on their face when they read it.

He gets a little blue one back.

He smiles, too, and looks up to meet Molly’s eyes, tilted over the top of their phone and the fact that Caleb’s can’t kiss them is driving him wild.

 

By the time they get back to Caleb’s flat, that desire has been holding Caleb’s spine white-hot for hours. Nott, Caleb knows, is downstairs visiting Kiri right now. There is nobody to make fun of them for kissing.

The door closes and immediately, Caleb grabs at Molly’s collar and pushes them to the wall, presses his lips to theirs and leans his whole body into them, hard. For a moment, Molly’s hands splay either side of them, and then settle at Caleb’s waist, pulling him a little more flush. There’s the soft pressure of interest against his thigh that Caleb, by now, has come to recognise, but Molly seems to pay it little mind with the way they smile at him when he falls back.

“ _Thank_ you, sweetheart, I’ve been dying to do that for _hours_.”

“This is no good.” Caleb’s voice borders on a growl as he walks backwards, dragging Molly with him into the main room, “Not being able to do this for so long. It’s hell.”

He goes tumbling backwards onto the sofa, but by now, it’s a practiced art and Molly comes crawling over the top of him.

“I know, sweetheart.” Molly ducks to kiss him and their long, loose hair falls like a curtain to one side of them. Caleb shifts his hands to their hips and tugs them until they lie down.

They settle into place with their head on Caleb’s shoulder and a smile on their face.  
Caleb tilts his head until he can kiss their hair.  
Molly sighs, a breath that was supposed to be a confession of love but comes out formless instead, but somehow holds just as much feeling within it. Caleb puts a hand to the small of their back and presses, briefly, in an imitation of a hug.

“Sweetheart-” Molly starts, and the tone along makes Caleb freeze up all over.

“Sit up.” He tells them, and they do, looking somewhat guilty about his reaction. He’s patient as ever, though, reaches out for their hand and Molly pulls him instead until he sits on their lap. Easy to move, should he want to, but with Molly’s arms around his waist and kissing a line down his throat to his clavicle, newly revealed with the removal of his turtleneck sweater, tossed as he sat. Caleb’s hands thread into their hair as their lips touch his skin, tightens his fingers a little with each burning-hot dot on the line Molly draws.

“Molly.” He says, breathes, really, “Molly, you had something serious-”

“I’m sure it can wait, if you’d rather do this,” Molly says, their breath scorching against Caleb’s collarbone and they kiss again, nip a little bit.

“I’d rather- _Molly_ -” the breathlessness comes with a slightly rougher bite, “Please, just- the serious- I want it over, so that I can enjoy this with you.”

“Alright.” Molly kisses the spot they’ve bitten, though it’s left little more than a red mark that will fade, and they settle back into place.

“Thank you.” Caleb kisses them quickly, “What is it?”

“I just- I’ve heard bits of your past. From Jester, from Bryce, but I don’t… know a lot. And I want to, if you’ll tell me. I want to know you better.”

Caleb winces, swallows, and Molly lifts a hand to his face, cups his cheek and strokes,

“Sweetheart, dear one, you don’t need to tell me. I don’t expect anything from you.”

“No, I should- it isn’t as though I burnt down my home, or- or killed my parents, or the like,” _in another life, I’m sure he would have made me,_ “It’s- I don’t know. It’s different. I don’t feel like it should bother me as it does.”

“If it upsets you, then it’s bad enough.” Molly tells him gently, and draws him down, suggesting more than demanding the kiss but Caleb is all too happy to give it to them.

“I was- I was part- when I was younger, my friends, we made- like kids do.” He’s already tearing up, he can feel it, he always does at the thought of Astrid and Wulf. He misses them like he misses a part of his own heart, he hasn’t heard a whisper of them since the day he left.  
  


He wonders, sometimes, if Trent killed them.  
  


He wouldn’t put it past him. Trent was- is- fucking _evil_ incarnate, and Caleb has the scars to prove it.

“Like kids do.” He repeats, over the flashing images on the backs of his eyelids, “We made a band. But- But, fuck, shit.” And he grinds the heel of one hand into his eye as he starts to cry in earnest and Molly hushes him, pulls him in,

“No, lovely, you’re not ready to tell me. Please don’t try.”

“I want to.” Caleb hiccups as he winds himself tight around Molly, “But I’m- I’m not- I don’t want you to know what I am. How terrible.”

“Oh Caleb.” Molly feels an ache in their chest in sympathy, “Darling. My love. My Caleb.”

Caleb chokes sobs into their shoulder, and they rock him slowly.

 

  
Caleb must cry for almost half an hour. He’s still hiccuping through the last of it when Nott comes in.

“Caleb?”

He sniffles as he turns from Molly and reaches for her, she comes scrambling up and jumps so he can cuddle her like he would cuddle a teddy bear. She’s cold from the early spring wind outside, but she smells of leaf litter and summer rains and _Nott_ and she soothes him like aloe vera soothes a burn.

“Hey.” Molly rests a hand on his forearm gently, “I’m going to go home. I think you need tonight. I- we’re still dating. I still care about you, this doesn’t change anything, okay?”

Caleb tilts and shifts to kiss them in silent thanks, and when he draws back, Nott pats his shoulder,

“See them out, Caleb. To the bottom. Then come back, and we can watch something cool.”

“It’s just going to be National Treasure again.” Molly rolls their eyes, and Nott gives a wolfish grin,

“Yeah. Something cool.”

She shifts off of Caleb and lets him stand, he and Molly move into the hall and before they open the door, Caleb pulls Molly down to kiss him hard once more.

“ _Ich liebe dich._ ”

“I don’t understand Zemnian, my love.” Molly smiles, and locks their hands at the back of Caleb’s neck. The way that they look at him makes Caleb feel like he could melt, like he can shiver his way out of his skin and into Molly’s heart where he belongs.

“You aren’t meant to understand that one.” Caleb gives the best smile he can muster- pained, small, but there- and presses onto his tiptoes to kiss them again.

They draw apart and make their way down the stairs. Molly is fully dressed, Caleb has his socks and no shoes and the stairs are cold even through the thick wool.  
He follows Molly down and ruminates on how much of a failure he is.

He’s let someone else down, again, like he always does. He’s doomed to this, he thinks, and it grows inside him, a consuming self-hate that roils, dark black around his heart.

Molly looks over their shoulder when they reach the bottom and open the door, Caleb has been silent after all. They find Caleb’s face twisted and tears threatening, and they sigh softly as they turn and set their hands on his shoulders.  
They’re in the cold outside, damp dark spring night with the smell of grass and new flowers in the air and the rainfall glimmering on the pavement under streetlight. People wander past outside.

“Caleb,” They say gently, “It’s okay that you can’t tell me.”

“I should be able to. I should be able to tell you, of all people, you deserve to know.”

“Sweetheart.” They chance, quietly, “It’s _alright._ I promise you. You know my promises.”

“I do.” Caleb agrees, voice small.

“It’s alright.” They murmur, and pull him a step closer so that they can press a gentle kiss to his forehead. Like their touch can smooth and soothe the storm in his skull. “We have all the time in the world.”

“Thank you.” Caleb says, hollow but honest as Molly takes another step into the cold, their hands squeezing gently at his shoulders for a brief second before they let go again.

“I’ll see you at work, alright?”

“Thank you.” Caleb says again, and Molly gives him a reassuring smile.

“It’s nothing. See you soon, Caleb.”

They wave as they wander away, and Caleb waves back, watching them until he can’t see them any more and stumbling back up the stairs when the door closes.

Nott is waiting, when he comes in. He sobs, collapses onto the chair, and she climbs up to lie atop him, already clicking for Frumpkin.

  
 

Caleb trawls to bed that night utterly miserable.

He curls up, and wound around his shoulders is the big, fluffy blanket with the purple inside that he stole from the bus to remind him of Molly. In his arms, instead of Molly themself, he holds a gift from them. It’s a soft plush dragon, something Molly had bought him to fill his bed when they’re not there.  
He winds himself into a ball around the little thing, pulls the blanket tighter around his shoulders, and sobs himself to sleep on his own shame.

 

 

Light is filtering through Caleb’s pretty embroidered brown curtains when he’s rudely awoken by his bedroom door slamming open.

“Caleb!” Nott’s voice is the borderline-panicked screech that has him fumbling to sit up, “Caleb, you need to see this!”

She’s dashing to the bed and crawling up beside him, he hears the crinkle of paper and sleep-bleary eyes find her little green face, twisted in worry. She lifts a newspaper in her hand and smoothes it, spreads it in front of his eyes and he leans back to look.

  
Caleb’s blood cools to a frosty fine ice in his veins.

  
“How in the fuck-?”

He straightens himself as he snatches the paper from her hands.

  
There, on the front page, is him.

  
It’s a photo of Molly kissing his forehead the night before, the street lamp light glistens on the tear tracks on his cheeks and Molly’s hands are on his shoulders and the headline reads,

 

 **LOVE IS IN THE AIR - MOLLYMAUK TEALEAF** **_DATING_ ** **MANAGER?**

 

At least his name isn’t there. He makes a conscious effort to avoid that.

“Stealth press must have got it of you last night.” Nott muses, concern in the line of her face. She skim-reads the page, “What are you going to do?”

Caleb looks at the page for almost thirty solid silent seconds.  
He climbs out of bed.

“I am going to make breakfast.”

“Caleb?” he’s away before Nott can spit his name and she scrambles after him. True to his word, Caleb is making coffee and toast.

“I’m going to make breakfast, Nott.” he tells her dimly, almost cheerfully, and she sits up at the breakfast table watching him with her mouth drawn and frowning in concern.

Caleb fries eggs. He passes Nott a coffee, he fries eggs, he cooks sausages and he makes toast and when his phone rings, he looks to Nott,

“I can’t leave the eggs.”

She sighs as she clambers down and goes through to his room to pick up.

“Hello?” he hears her say through the wall.

There’s a silence, and she comes trotting back,

“You need to take this.” She holds the phone out, and he sighs and makes a gesture to the eggs, which Nott dutifully takes over. 

“ _Hallo?_ ” Caleb asks tentatively,

“ _Caleb,_ ” Molly’s voice crackles in their panic, “Fuck, Caleb, I’m so sorry, have you- did you see? I shouldn’t have- I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry.”

“Molly.” Caleb says, his voice a level calm he didn’t know he was capable of, “It’s alright. It’s okay, _Schatz,_ calm down.”

“But it’s _my fault!_ ” They sound hysterical, “I should never have kissed you outside! This is all my fault!”

“It’s okay, Molly, _mein Liebling,_ I promise. Why- why don’t you meet me at work later? I will use the back entrance, we can meet in the staff room, we can sort this out, _ja?_ ”

He hears Molly sniffle on the other end of the line.

“Are you crying?” He asks, and hears another sniff,

“No.” Molly lies.

“Liar.” Caleb smiles, “It’s okay to cry.”

“I know it is, I’m just- I’m scared! I don’t- I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologise, Molly.”

“I’ll bring them over in my car.” Caleb hears Fjord call from what seems to be a short distance from Molly, “What time?”  
  
“Does one work for you? Nott and I are about to have a very lovely breakfast, and I feel like I owe her this.”

“One works for us. I’ll keep this one calm.” Fjord replies, closer now. Unbeknownst to Caleb, Molly is cuddled into his side, sobbing into his shoulder silently.

“I will see you then. Molly?”

He waits for the sobbing to turn into _mhm_ noises,

“I- _ich liebe dich,_ Molly.”

“I don’t understand Zemnian, Caleb.” They sniffle, and Caleb smiles again,

“It is affection.”

“Thank you darling. See you soon.”

“See you soon.” Caleb agrees, and Molly ends the call.

  
When he comes to the kitchen counter, Nott has plated up the breakfast and it sits waiting for him. She’s frowning as he approaches.

  
“You’re too calm. I’m scared.”

“I do not think I’ll be calm for long.” Caleb tells her serenely, “Take advantage. You will have to pick up my pieces, I’m so sorry.”

“I’ll always pick up your pieces.” She replies, tiny but fierce, “I _love_ you, Caleb!”

He smiles at her, smiles at the food, and impales a sausage,

“Thank you, Nott. _Ich liebe dich auch._ ”

 

 

 

Caleb makes his way over on foot.

He leaves through the courtyard, not the front door, winds through back alleys and sidewalks with broken glass and knows no harm will come to him even in the shadier parts of town. He knows the right Gentleman to keep him safe.

He keeps expecting the axe to fall, keeps expecting the end, and it just doesn’t come. He stays calm, smiling, and even, on the way over, comes up with an idea.

It’s not perfect. But it’s the best of this bad situation, and the more he thinks it over, the better an idea it seems.  
He comes into the building through the back door and takes the elevator to the fifth floor, to the staffroom where Molly is pacing.

“Caleb, I’m sorry-”

Caleb crosses to them in three quick strides and kisses them so hard that their fang catches his bottom lip and he feels blood blossom there. It appears to be an interest of Molly’s, judging by the shudder, by the hands in a death grip on his hip, by the gentle swipe of their tongue over the sore flesh.

“It hasn’t stopped being okay.” Caleb assures, tugs Molly as flush to him as physics will allow him to go, “And I have an- an idea. We should take it to Bryce, but it is an idea, come on-”

He takes their hand and goes to pull them away, and before he can, Molly tugs him back and dips to press him into another kiss.

“Okay,” they let up, “Let’s go.”

Caleb drags them to Bryce’s office and doesn’t even knock, just shoves the door open to them with the newspaper.

“You’ve seen, too.” They look up with a grim expression, and Caleb pulls Molly into the room,

“ _Ja._ We’ve seen. And I have an idea.”

  
  


Caleb has never seen Molly play the guitar. He swears he could fall in love again with just the way they look against the sheet background with the guitar in their hands.

It’s Beau’s, apparently, but Caleb had asked and she won’t say no to Caleb like this, so it’s in Molly’s hands. Jester has been called in on an emergency basis, double pay- approved by Bryce- and she touches up the last of Molly’s highlighter, a pretty iridescent style on their high cheekbones.

Caleb kisses them when she pulls away.

“Ready?” Molly asks him softly, and Caleb takes a steadying breath as he sits beside them, close to press their thighs together.

“ _Ja_.”

 

Bryce nods at them, and they move to the camera.

“Recording. Three, two…” and a thumbs up, and Molly takes a breath,

 

“My name is Mollymauk Tealeaf,” They begin, and their voice betrays none of their nerves, “And I’m in love.”

They glance to Caleb automatically, and he sets a hand on their arm, smiles in reassurance, and they feel their confidence swell.

“This is a song that my manager, my Caleb wrote for me.”

They pause, briefly, to kiss Caleb.  
And begin to play, breathing even for the guitar chords and Caleb breathes his own nerves from his body,

“ _I am short of breath, standing next to you._ ”

  


 

They release the video on Zadash’s YouTube channel the next day. The same day, Bryce crams them into the recording studio to record it professionally, an hour between other clients but they only need three or four takes.

“We’ll release it next week.” Bryce assures them both, “All proceeds to Triage, of course.”

 _  
Triage. _ Caleb’s charity.

  
He wanted something with _three_ or _tri_ , he wanted something to remember Wulf and Astrid with, and this was all that he could think to do.

“Thank you, Bryce.” Caleb steps in and kisses their cheek, and when he steps back, Molly does the same.

“We would be lost without you, you know.” Molly lilts with a smile, and Bryce laughs lightly,

“I know you would! But on that note, I have a date with Caduceus. Check YouTube when you get home, see how it goes.”

They agree, soft and sweet and smiling and hand-in-hand, they follow Bryce out and walk the back streets back to Caleb’s place. In an alleyway a street or two from his flat, Molly stops them both. The darkness of the spring and the brick looms over them, and Molly presses themself to Caleb.

“I don’t want- I don’t want you to feel pressured into a relationship. Now people know.”

“Is this a relationship, then? Are we officialising it?” Caleb is smiling, and Molly shrugs a little,

“I think that was done for us.”

Caleb stands on his tiptoes to kiss them,

“It does not matter to me. Do you want this?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Molly gives emphatically, “More than anything. I want to be your partner, Caleb.”

“And I want to be your- your boyfriend.”

There’s a headrush that comes with saying it, something strong and winding, and they both inhale with the shock of it.

“Caleb?” Molly says, quickly, before they can talk themself out of it.

“ _Ja?_ ”

“I love you.” Molly says, and the dim street light from the main road glimmers on the side of their face, “I _love you_. I love you, and I want to be yours, and it’s okay if you can’t say it back-”

Caleb kisses them, cuts them off and sighs into the sweet contact of it, his hands smoothing gently up and down Molly’s sides.

“I love you too.” He tells them, an inch from their lips and his tone as firm as his heart can be, “You _are_ mine. And I am yours.”

“I love you.” Molly breathes, “I’m allowed to say it. I’m allowed to say I love you.”

“You are.” Caleb affirms, and kisses them again.

 

 

The doubts begin to creep in as they near his apartment.

“Come to my car, first.” He tells them, before he’s even really decided, “I want- I want a private conversation and-”

“I understand.” Molly cuts off the spiral before Caleb can fall too into it, “Come on.”

They guide the two of them around the building to the parking lot, still damp from the drizzle earlier that night, and they come and climb into Caleb’s car. The front seats, Caleb puts his hands on the wheel and breathes.

“Are you alright, darling?” Molly asks gently, and Caleb takes a deep breath,

“It’s time. I’m ready.” He says, “I’m ready.”

“Ready for what, my sweet?”

 

Caleb breathes, regulates once more before looking up to meet Molly’s eyes.

 

“I’m going to tell you how I got here.” He says, “How we got here. About my childhood, my parents, and the first two people I ever fell in love with.”


	15. Famous Last Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is [Famous Last Words - My Chemical Romance](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HMjI64xSxqo)
> 
> Check the end notes for important details.
> 
> Content warnings for graphic description of physical abuse/borderline? Explicit? torture. Trent's hands.

Caleb Widogast, age 14, has been writing songs for his little band for nearing seven years now. It started as kids will do, a fun game with Astrid playing the piano and Wulf repeatedly demanding drums and getting a violin instead.

Their parents never warned them about talent agents. They’d never dreamed to be more than a group of kids playing music for their small town where everyone feels like family. So when Soltryce records discovered them at a tiny talent show in the town hall of Blumenthal, of course they’d jumped at the chance- what fourteen year old wouldn’t chomp at the bit for a chance to be famous?

 

It’s a decision that Caleb would regret for years to come. Maybe even the rest of his life.

  


They were children, before they were anything else. They started out bright-eyed and full of so much wonder that it swelled in their chests and burst behind their eyelids in brilliant technicolour, they began themselves like the sun. Their manager stands always at their backs, urging them, pushing them forward, shepherding them to their future.

Trent shines for the cameras just as the kids do, all four of them perfect. Caleb is half a head taller than the others, Astrid and Wulf come to the same level- much to Wulf’s disappointment, and insistence that _he’s_ the taller one. As kids do, they quarrel and joke and jape and Caleb looks at his little family and smiles.

 

And at home, their real families watch them with wide-eyed adoration as they grow. Astrid’s hair lengthens from her cute little bob into long pale blond, braided back and pinned up in tones of rich ruby. Wulf’s hair grows wild at first and is tamed, per se, into the neat little tight braids that cling to his head in the most wonderful way.

And Caleb keeps his hair cropped short.

It’s the only thing he can cling to in his masculinity, even though Trent tries to force it the other way. He lays out dresses and skirts and Caleb sneers, he’s always been defiant about these matters. In the end, Trent has no choice- Caleb never wears the things. When Trent hands out three outfits with two dresses, Wulf saunters his way onto the stage with his skirt tucked and pinned halfway up his thigh, and after the fourth or fifth time, Trent gives up. He gives Caleb his suits, and Caleb doesn’t cry, just clings to Wulf and thanks him profusely.

 

The three become the kind of inseperable that can only come from facing a tyrant alone, as children fighting the world will do.  
  
The amount of scars that Wulf bears from the brunt of the dresses weighs like lead on Caleb’s soul.

He cries about it, one night on a tour, when the group is rising to fame and Caleb has not yet won this battle, and Wulf takes Caleb’s face between both palms.

They’re sixteen years old, and Caleb never learns how not to do this- he kisses Wulf. It’s an odd, emotional sort of build up, but this one, unlike many future mistakes, doesn’t come on the back of confusion. It comes on the back of a silly little five-year crush on both of Caleb’s best friends, and Wulf can only laugh as the two tumble into an embrace that Astrid finds herself in mere minutes later. Both boys determined, they scramble to find her sewing her way through a tear in a favourite dress, one her parents had bought her that doesn’t quite fit any more but she loves it dearly.  
_Come on,_ they croon to her, _it will be there in the morning._

And Astrid, oh Astrid. She has never been able to say no to her boys.

The three curl into Caleb’s bed and drown themselves in blankets, and that’s the way they’ll stay for years to come. Trent can’t stop them, can’t touch them here, even when they’re touring in the trailer, because Trent would never lower himself to sleeping amongst his tools.

 

The children grow. They’re famous, international, they travel to Tal’dorei and Marquet and perform in Whitestone for the de Rolo family, for monarchs and mayors across all of Exandria.  
They have money beyond their wildest dreams and send packets home to their parents, missing them terribly.  
They never get anything back.  
They see their parents only very occasionally, when Trent isn’t keeping them driven and expending all of their childhood energy on near-constant travel and touring and work.  


Trent Ikithon is not the shining sunburst of a man he appears to be on stage, in the public eye.  


The children miss their parents, miss their families, and Trent keeps all of the doors around them locked as he drives. He punishes missteps roughly.

Caleb is the lead vocalist. For him, Trent runs a rough routine of vocal training with covers of songs pitched far too high, far too low, out of Caleb’s range and when his voice breaks, Trent adds another mark to the scars on his back.

The whip is a horrid, cruel little thing, black leather and sharp where it shouldn’t be, leaving lashes in Caleb’s skin in the places they won’t be seen. He knows he’s not the only one to get it, he’s seen the backs of Astrid’s thighs, he’s seen Wulf’s lower back. He doesn’t know how their private training goes, they’re not allowed to talk about it and so they never do, just crawl into bed bleeding and sobbing and sit still whilst the other two murmur soothingly and press gauze over the red welts, kiss gently across the top of their head.

 

The first one to get the brand is Caleb.

 

He doesn’t even do anything wrong- he’s simply called to Trent one day and comes to find the sunstar himself holding a long thin package box and smiling in a way that tells Caleb he’s going to hurt in mere minutes.

He asks Caleb what he thinks is in the box, only he doesn’t call him Caleb, and Caleb ignores that bit. It all corrects out in his brain, anyway, there’s no point in dwelling on things that will only hurt him.  
He doesn’t know what’s in the box. He can’t even guess- it’s too long to be a microphone, the whip is on the table, and the thought of a branding iron had not crossed the boy’s thoughts within a million miles.

Trent does not open the box right away. He goes to the fire and ensures that it’s burning thoroughly hot, the logs crackling as they char away and Trent stares into it, watches the embers and asks Caleb if Astrid still keeps her aloe vera plant. The one that Wulf’s little brother- a botanist- had given her when she’d left and that she’s cared for diligently ever since.

Caleb tells him that, yes, Astrid keeps it on the bedside table, recently repotted. He does not see, at first, the way that Trent’s smile widens to the mania, and it takes him far too long to be scared.  
He tells Caleb that it’s a good thing that Astrid is so responsible. So sweet, so kind, everything a girl should be.  
That’s about where Caleb starts to become scared. But he doesn’t let it show on his face, he never can, Trent is a dangerous man to be scared of and he knows it well. He knows how to exploit that fear. He knows how to wring a man dry of his spirit, but he will never break the children.

 

Caleb’s shirt is removed, the way it usually is at the beginning of a training session and he sits stock-still and straight-backed and begs instruction, receives none.  
Trent opens the box at long last, withdraws a black metal pole with a shape at the end that Caleb cannot, right now, decipher.  
Trent moves to the fire wordlessly and stokes at it with the new thing, presses and holds it there a while and asks Caleb if he knows what it is and Caleb tells him no, sir, he does not.

Trent tells him that he will soon enough.

When the brand touches Caleb, for a moment, there is no pain. Nothing at all, just a cold air breeze and the sound of sizzling and calm breath and then, as the brand is drawn away and melted skin pulls with it, Caleb feels it begin to twinge. And then it feels as though he is burning from the inside out and he screams so loud that he’s sure Astrid and Wulf will hear, his hands tremble in his lap with the enormous effort to keep them there, and it isn’t fear of Trent that holds still his shaking, shivering fingers. It’s his own reading, knowing that moving, that touching it will make it worse. Trent had asked of the Aloe purely for this reason.

Caleb is dismissed with a round of laughter, raucous and proud, like Trent’s little experiment has gone well.

 

Caleb meets Astrid and Wulf on his way up to bed, still shirtless and shivering and not crying and they look at him wide-eyed.

He has time to breathe the plant’s name before he passes out from the pain making his head swirl, and from there knows nothing until he’s awake in their bed with something cool on his shoulder and his head still spinning with pain. He wriggles to the edge of the bed and finds Wulf there, stroking his hair as he’s sick into a bucket that has clearly already been used for this purpose. Astrid’s hands are cool against his back, away from the new brand, and Caleb cannot keep himself conscious. He falls back away again to Wulf stroking his hair and Astrid’s touch at his back and pain swirling like bile in his brain and throat.

 

All three of the children get the brand in the next few days. From there, the burns become common, though usually with the poker instead of the brand. The brand is special. The brand only comes out for the big things, but they all have it in the centre of their back and they all know now who they belong to. Their unbreakable spirit turns from diamond to dust, it shatters under Trent’s new toy and the resounding laughter that follows each hiss and burn pressed against their skin.

Their only respite becomes one another- abandoned by their friends, by their families, isolated from the world and they crawl into bed together where they wish dearly that they could cry. If they could cry, perhaps it would ease the pain in their hearts and heads.

They cannot cry.

Trent will not let them. They will not let themselves.

 

Trent hides the outside world from them in a way only an expert can. Just little edges, just enough to keep them away and convince the rest of the world that everything is normal. He lets nobody else style for them, only Trent can make those decisions and he chooses clothes carefully, just the right way to ensure that they hide the scars and the burns and the brands.

Astrid’s aloe vera plant dwindles in leaves.

 

Away from the closed doors of the children’s new lives, their families grow up and change.

Wulf’s little brother studies hard, he never forgets the plant that he gave Astrid as she left and he goes to university hoping that his brother will write, will call, will contact him because he loves. Of course, Wulf doesn’t know, Wulf doesn’t contact him. For as much as Caleb will ever know, the two never speak again.

Astrid’s mother falls ill. Gravely so.  
She dies, and it’s years before any of the children even know that she is gone- Astrid does not attend her funeral. How could she, when as far as she was aware, her mother was happy and healthy?

Astrid is subsequently disowned by her remaining family, by her older sister, by her cousins and aunts and uncles. How could the sweet young girl be too good for them, for her own mother’s funeral? Nobody ever sets them to rights. Just another leaden weight on Caleb’s conscience.

Caleb’s father follows similarly. Unlike Astrid, though, Caleb hears whispers- but too late.

His father grows ill in early June, when the spring is heating to summer and the flower buds are bright green and prime for blooming. In June, he coughs until he bleeds. Caleb’s mother takes him to a doctor.

In July, he gets his diagnosis. It’s a cancer, he is told, of the lungs and they do not think that there is anything he can do. In the heatwave of that year, Caleb’s father writes his list of things to do before he dies, and at the top is to hug his son one last time.

In August, the coughing grows worse. It reaches a point that Caleb’s father can no longer walk far unaided, and he searches desperately for Trent, for his son, he calls and Caleb never returns them.

In September, he begins his final dance. He collapses on the seventeenth and winds up in hospital, conscious, but barely, and Caleb’s mother calls Trent night and day.

 _Please,_ she begs him, _I know he’s on tour, but his father is dying at home._

Trent tells her that Caleb is too busy, that he refuses to leave, that he’s sorry, Mrs Widogast, but Caleb doesn’t want to come home. The way that he says Caleb’s name, Astrid claims, sounds as though he is spitting poison.

On the other side of the door, she hangs up the other landline as quietly as she can, and she runs for Caleb as fast as her weakened legs will carry her.

 

 

The children formulate a plan that night.

Only one of them can leave, and it must be Caleb. He _must_ go to his father, and when he is done, he can free his friends, too. Astrid and Wulf can stay behind, can be loyal and doting and distracting and prevent Trent from chasing him. They can be what he needs them to be, everything that he needs them to be, except at his side.

They slip him out through the tiny toilet window. He’s the only one that can fit through it, the one of the three that eats the least, hands all his food to the others and in ways it helps. In this way it helps.

He kisses his partners a final goodbye and promises to see them soon. He tells them that he loves them, and he slides out of the window and he runs as fast as his slight form will allow.

 

It has taken the children too long to realise that Trent is hiding their families from them. Caleb will fix this. He will.

 

He doesn’t.

 

Caleb moves as fast as his legs, as his body, as his little bit of money will let him. He hitchhikes from Rexxentrum all the way home to Blumenthal, and he bursts his way into the hospital barely an hour too late.  
He cries and breaks and aches on his mother. He tells her everything in that hospital room as the staff slowly clear his father’s body of tubes and monitors and before they can lay the sheet over his father’s face, Caleb begs himself a last moment.

He breaks over his father’s body. He breaks, he cries, and he hugs his father a final time, still warm though his eyes are closed and his heart has stopped and he breaks into tiny, tiny pieces, fractures himself away.

Caleb Widogast is eighteen years old when he loses his father. He is eighteen years old when he loses himself.

His mother takes him home and keeps calling Trent as though he has never left, and Trent does not suspect.

Caleb has promised to help his friends but he cannot even speak. His mother tries for all that she is worth to do what he cannot but ultimately, she is one woman. One woman with a son bearing the physical scars of an evil man, but one woman that nobody will listen to and Astrid and Wulf remain.

Caleb does not go to see Wulf’s family. He does not go to defend Astrid’s honour.

He stays at home, his childhood home, where he has not set foot for four years and he does not leave it for a further two. The furthest he goes is the walled-in back garden, where he lies in the grass and does not speak.

It takes him far longer to find his voice.

 

He stays in his home for two years before his mother is hit by the car.

For the first time since returning home, the phone rings in the house and Caleb must answer, because his mother went to the shop an hour ago and has not returned.

He greets with a rusty _hello,_ the first word in two years he has said and the voice on the phone tells him of the accident and Caleb is out like a shot.

 

He is at his mother’s bedside when she dies. She is conscious, briefly, an hour before she passes and she tells her son that she loves him and then he sits beside her and watches the death rattle in her chest.

She stops breathing, and Caleb leaves. He does not attend his mother’s funeral. He does not remember much at all of the next two months, only that he clears out all of the royalties his mother has ever gotten from him- so Trent had a spark of humanity, it seems- and he takes them and the first thing he does is pay for private top surgery. He is not supposed to be alone, so he pays for recovery time, too, and as soon as the drainage tubes are removed, Caleb leaves. He does not stick around to be seen.

 

For the next five years, Caleb goes by many names as he travels. He sees more therapists than he does food, he sees more offered sofas than he does streets. That is a small victory in a harsh world. Each night it is somewhere new, but it is always somewhere with someone sympathetic, someone that offers him their sofa and their shower and trusts him not to steal from them and he never does. He can be a good man, he can pretend to be good, pretend to be everything that Trent said he wasn’t, he can pretend.

 

He travels across all of Wildemount. Rexxentrum and Hupperdook and Shady Creek, Trostenwald and Alfield and Berlebin, Bladegarden and Felderwin and Zadash. He meets thousands of people and not one of them recognises him. He never goes back for his friends. Perhaps Trent killed them for their betrayal.

Caleb will never know.

 

In a therapist’s office somewhere out to the side of Felderwin, Caleb sits. It is coming to the ends of August almost five years following his mother’s death, this is the four-hundred and fifty-sixth therapist that Caleb will have seen, there is no reason to assume that they can help. That they will be any different.

He waits, in the waiting room, where waiting is to be done and someone new comes in. Someone small, hiding themself under a hood and with flashes of green skin at their hands, at their long ears.

They look up to Caleb in shock, like they don’t expect him here, and Caleb stares down ready to bolt.

 _I don’t want to be here._ They tell Caleb, like that’s a perfectly normal introduction. Caleb gives them a wry smile.

 _I do not want to be here either._ He tells them, quiet, whispered, like a secret, like something playful and this new stranger looks around with wide yellow eyes, looks around the office, looks back at him.

_Then let’s run._

 

And they do.

And they do not stop running for months, together, inexplicable and it takes them nearing a week to swap even their names but by the time they end up in Zadash they could not live without one another.

Nott the Brave, a goblin seeking her redemption under the sunlight of the world. They become as one, and Caleb close to forgets that was ever supposed to be something that he isn’t now- and then he is recognised.

 

On the streets of Zadash, moving from one house to another, he bumps into someone on the street because he is not looking where he is going and that simple mistake turns around both his and Nott’s lives.  
A tall, pale half-elf goes sprawling across the ground, their groceries roll and both Caleb and Nott spit their apologies and rush to pick up their things for them- Nott sneaks herself an orange, but it’s hard to blame a starving woman for eating.  
Caleb helps the stranger to their feet and finds recognition flaring deep in their blue eyes and they say his _name._

And Caleb panics.

And Caleb runs.

 

Three days later, he finds himself knocking at the door to a pretty little flat in a good part of the city, unusual to his usual invites for a night of accomodation, and when the half-elf answers the door he almost bolts again.

 _Don’t-_ they tell him quickly, _please stay._

Nott tells Caleb that they have nowhere else to go and Caleb refuses to leave her, so here they stay, and here they find their future.

  


“Bryce got me a job as an accountant at Zadash.” Caleb’s voice is hoarse from all of the words he’s said so quick, “And I began to help them with their own clients. After a year of that, they pushed me toward managing, and I- I- I was nervous. Because Trent had always told me that I was so much like he was, like- like I _was_ him. And I did not want to be him, but Bryce was there, by my side, and I- I swore. I swore I would never be what Trent was. I would never do what he did.”

Molly is sat speechless on the other side of the car. They are saving their emotions for when Caleb is finished, they are saving their cuddles for when they leave the car, they are saving their heart for Caleb.

“I promised Astrid and Wulf that I would go back, that I would save them, but I didn’t. I didn’t go back I’m _scum,_ I left them there to- to die? To be _beaten_? I did not even correct Astrid’s family, I did not contact Wulf’s brother- I want them back, Molly. I miss them like I would miss an arm, or a leg, or Nott- but I cannot track them down. If Trent is still- if he is still there, what if he controls them? What if he has bent them to his will? I am sure he could manage it with years of practice. Years to do so.”

Caleb is silent, for a few moments.

“I miss them.” He chokes through tears, “Like I would an arm, a leg, or Nott, or a piece of my own heart.”

He breaks there, in tears on his front seat and doubles over, almost, aching and choking and Molly’s hands hover,

“Caleb.” They say, and the words can’t come to them, they keep catching in their throat and there is nothing they can say to make this better, “Can I touch you?”

Caleb shakes his head as he chokes on his own breath,

“I am _poison,_ Molly. It’s- you can _leave_ I know- I know what I _am-_ it’s okay. I understand, I swear.”

“Caleb, sweetheart, my love, no you’re not. I- I- fucking-”

There’s rage boiling over Molly, they feel themself heating like a furnace, their jaw clenched so tight they can feel a migraine beginning.

Molly is a being of mercy. They believe in new chances, even for the terrible, they do not believe in death as a solution but they know in this moment here and now-

Not only would they kill Trent Ikithon on sight, given the opportunity- they actively wish to seek him out and run him through, slowly, draining him of his life. They want him to suffer for this, for what he has done to their Caleb, for what he has done to Wulf and Astrid, whatever that may be.

 

“I love you, Caleb.” Molly says, and time seems to have passed since the last time they spoke. It is quieter outside. Caleb’s sobs seem to have subsided.

“You can’t.” Caleb replies, quiet and achingly soft, and Molly frowns,

“I do. I love you, and you’re not getting rid of me. I’m _here,_ I’m _yours_ , and- and if you still want to find Wulf and Astrid, then- I’m here. I’ll help you.”

Caleb lifts his head, tears still tracking down his cheeks but his sniffles have dwindled away,

“You- you would do that for me?”

“I’ll do anything for you.” Molly says, firm and solid and honest, “I- I love you.”

“I want to find them. I need to know what happened. What I left behind.” Caleb leans across to Molly, eyes wide and desperate, “I _need_ to find them.”

“I’ll make it happen.” Molly promises, and Caleb kisses them, sudden and hard.

He pulls away gasping for air,

“I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little author infodrop  
> I'm clinically depressed, I know, who isnt, got on meds this month.  
> So heres the issue:  
> Over november, I've been posting chapters of my nano fic (Of The Sun, personified) and it's something I've _genuinely_ enjoyed writing, but it seems like people just. don't like it.  
>  and That has killed my motivation to write.
> 
> I don't write for me anymore, I write for the attention and reaction because it's the only time I get validation.  
> Not getting that has absolutely crushed my desire to write. I only have one chapter left of ATAHT written despite the 4+ i have planned, because I just... can't work on it.
> 
> There is a strong possibility that I'm going to give up.  
> That's why this update is early.  
> I thought you guys that still follow this fic deserved to know.


	16. Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything - Bry
> 
> Molly and Caleb get some time to themselves, including an aborted attempt at some bedroom antics.  
> (Some NSFW content!)

Caleb and Molly plod up the stairs to Caleb’s seventh-floor apartment with their fingers laced together, silent but content despite the turmoil of Caleb’s emotions, the pain of his history aching on him.

“I love you.” Molly can’t bite it back as they reach Caleb’s floor, and Caleb lets out a soft, amused breath as he turns and presses to his tiptoes to kiss them,

“I know you do, _Schatz._ ” and it’s the truth, “I love you too.”

Caleb _knows_ that Molly loves him. He isn’t fighting himself to hold that thought in place in his mind, he isn’t scrabbling for any evidence of its truth, it just is. A fact, like _it’s spring,_ or _Bryce is blond._

Nott yanks the door open as they come close enough, her face a storm and Caleb’s eyes widen in surprise, but he isn’t scared. He knows his Nott, he has his Molly,

“Is everything alright?” he asks her,

“No!” She fumes, and Caleb relaxes, because that’s Nott’s _not really angry_ voice, it’s her _worried_ voice. “Everything is _not_ alright! You didn’t _call,_ I was so worried, Caleb! What if something had happened!? What if Molly had eaten you!?”

“I keep telling you, Nott, darling, not without his permission.” Molly’s grin is practically shit-eating, they lean into Caleb and rest their head on his shoulder and Nott’s face goes through the five stages of grief, visibly.

“I made cakes, and you should come in.” And she turns, expression newly unreadable, pads inside with the door open and both Caleb and Molly stare after her in silence for a few seconds before Molly starts to shake with silent laughter.

A few more moments, and they burst into peals of laughter, and Caleb follows a fraction of a second later, they cling to one another in the empty hall just to hold themselves upright. By all means and ends, Nott’s flat expression was in no way this funny but it’s such a change to the tone of the past hour- hour and a half? And it all feels so much and so empty.  
It takes entirely too long for the two of them to catch their breath up again and follow Nott into their home.

 

Nott has, as she promised, made cakes. Entirely too many of them, in fact. The breakfast nook countertop is full of these little cupcakes, some in green papers, some in purple, some in orange, some in blue, some in… almost every colour, really.

“These ones are mine.” She trails a claw-tip over the dark green casings as they approach her, “The lighter green are for Fjord. I know he’s not a sweet kind of man, so they’re salted caramel and plain.”  
  
“He does like salted caramel.” Molly murmurs, leaning over looking for theirs, “Am I purple?”   
  
“Yes, you’re purple, have you not looked in a mirror lately?”

“Nott.” Caleb says flatly and she laughs at her own joke,

“Your casings are purple, yeah. You have a variety. This one is salted caramel,” She scoots one forward, “This one is toffee apple, raspberry and white chocolate, red velvet, plain vanilla, and this… is a surprise.” The last one is scooted forward tentatively. It’s very pretty, blue cake with galaxy-style frosting decorated in glitter and tiny stars.

“And me, _Liebling?_ ” Caleb leans on the empty countertop space beside Molly, Nott pushes a series of cakes toward him,

“I know you don’t have much of a sweet tooth. Salted caramel, forest fruits, toffee apple, lemon drizzle, and two plain.”

“No carrot cake?” Molly’s lilt is teasing, and Nott scrunches up her face,

“Carrot cake is demon work.”  
  
“Ah, yes,” Molly beams, “Just like pineapple pizza.”

“No!” Nott protests, her disgust falling away to indignation, “Pineapple on pizza perfectly blends sweet and savoury! The sweetness of the pineapple makes the pizza taste nicer! It’s like salted caramel.”

“If you _ever_ compare pineapple pizza to salted caramel in front of me again,” Molly threatens, “I will eat you _and_ Caleb.”

“Why me?” Caleb near yelps in protest, and Molly turns to him with a wicked smile and burning eyes,  
  
“Because if I just threatened to eat Nott, she wouldn’t stop.”

“It’s true.” Nott adds nonchalantly, “I care more about you than I do myself.”

“And I care more for _you_ than I do myself.” Caleb rounds the table to kiss the sort of top-side of Nott’s head, “So that way, it evens out.”

“The system works!” Molly’s tail lashes behind them, their face a wide, bright grin, they peel the paper from their raspberry and white chocolate cupcake and take the biggest bite that Caleb has ever seen them take of anything.

The regret is instantly visible on their face.  
They make wordless pained noises as they chew their way through the too-big mouthful, but once it’s all gone, they give Nott a hearty thumbs up,

“Ten out of ten!”

“Thank you.” Nott says primly, shimmies a little and sits up straighter in her pride, “I tried _very_ hard. Are you coming to help Kiri move with me tomorrow, Caleb?”

Caleb… blinks.

“That is not tomorrow. Is it?”

“Yes?” Nott tilts her head, a weird little birdlike jerk that both Caleb and Molly find endearing, “How can _you_ forget?”

“I have- I- _sheiße-_ I cannot, Nott. My mind is just…” He makes an exploding gesture from the side of his head with his hand, and Nott nods understandingly,

“It’s okay, Caleb! Me and Kiri can manage it!”

“If there is anything that you really need me for, you can text me and I will come, but unless I’m personally required…”

“Only if we need you. Promise.” Nott draws a cross over her heart and smiles at him with all of those wonderfully sharp teeth and Caleb can’t help his answering smile.

Molly swallows their mouthful of cake and leans over to kiss Caleb’s cheek.

“You’re pretty when you smile, Caleb.”

And Caleb, immediately, turns a pretty shade of red that looks absolutely terrible against his hair and Molly kisses him again because how could they not when he’s so cute?

 

Caleb packs his and Molly’s cupcakes carefully away for the next day, and Nott packages up Jester and Fjord’s, Yasha drops in for hers and Beau’s on the way back from movie night.

“What about Bryce’s? And Clay’s?” Caleb asks her, and Nott shrugs.

“Take them all to Bryce, they’ll pass Deuces’ cupcakes on.”

“They have been seeing a lot of one another.” Molly muses as they begin the task of packing up the cupcakes, Caleb snorts softly,

“I am just glad that Bryce has found someone to ease the ache in their heart. It has been there for a while.”

“And like a fool-” Molly punctuates by leaning over to kiss Caleb gently, “- you didn’t realise that ache was for you.”

“ _Ja,_ well, by the time I had, it was too late. They had already lost me to you.” He turns to meet Molly’s eyes, briefly, and finds such softness on their face that he feels himself physically ache at this small distance between them.

“Love you.” Caleb catches in the moment before Molly kisses him, and from the counter behind them, Nott snorts softly.

“ _Gay._ ”

“Is it, though?” Caleb turns, arms crossed, “If I am a man and Molly is not, does that not, by definition, make it not gay?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Molly’s voice holds laughter within it, “I might not be a man, but this is _definitely_ gay. And if I’m saying it, it’s true. Because I am _actually_ a God.”

“Long may you reign.” Nott grins, leans so Molly can see her and their eyebrows shoot up in surprise,

“Someone’s been talking to Fjord.”

“He’s very easy to talk to!”

Caleb watches two of his favourite people on Exandria as they chatter to one another, trading smirks and smiles and sharp-toothed grins and he wonders how lucky he must be to have gotten here. Of all places, here, in his own kitchen, with Molly’s hand on his hip and a smile on Nott’s face and a roof over all of their heads, a safety and security and for the first time in many, many years...

Caleb is not scared.

He is not scared of being here, he is not scared of these people, he is not scared of the future, and he is not scared of himself.

 

 

Caleb and Molly stumble to bed three hours and a terrible movie later, chuckling and clinging to one another as they go. Caleb’s door clicks closed behind him.

“I-” Caleb takes Molly’s face in his hands, “-am, so lucky, to have you.”

“Darling.” There’s more behind Molly’s single word giggly response that Caleb doesn’t need them to voice to understand, and he pulls them down that inch and a half for a firm kiss, the angle of their jaw presses into the soft part of his palms in the best way, it’s a sensation he thinks that he will never get enough of but he releases to move to unbutton Molly’s shirt instead, doesn’t even notice that they’re padding backwards until Molly stops kissing him because they’re falling backwards, shirt half-unbuttoned and Caleb’s bed pressed to the back of their knees with a soft _whoomph._   
  
“Oh!” They exclaim, and laugh again, a sweet high sound that Caleb falls in love with again and again every time they try to stifle it behind their hand and fail.

Caleb crawls over them and plonks himself down, resting his weight mostly on his on legs but situated over Molly’s hip bones, just under their stomach and upright and Molly’s hand presses harder to their mouth with the fresh wave of laughter.

“Having fun up there, darling?”

“Very much.” Caleb wriggles into his comfort and as slowly as he can, he leans and lays forward, flattening across Molly and tucking his hands under his chin. Molly gives a huff of breath.

“Are you going to let me undress?”

“ _Nein._ ”

“Are you going to let me undress you?”

Oh. Now there’s a suggestion.

Caleb’s first, inherent response is a strong _no_ but it would be- bad. But nice. Nice, to be taken care of, and he trusts Molly. He does.  
So he sits up.

“I suppose.”  
  
“You’ll have to get off of me, lovely.” Molly’s hands are at his hips and nudging him sideways and Caleb sighs as he obeys, slips to Molly’s left and sits in wait as Molly draws themself up and begins to peel their boyfriend out of his turtleneck.   
Poorly.

“Caleb.” Molly’s tone is flat and directionlessly irritated, “Where- why is the neck so small?”  
  
“I do not have horns, _Liebling,_ it does not need to be very big.” Caleb’s voice is muffled from the half of his turtleneck currently tugged over his face but he sits still and waits.

“You look like your head’s in a _bag._ ” Molly pulls a face that Caleb can’t see, but he laughs anyway,

“Just keep pulling.”  
  
Molly does, and eventually, in a very Ghibli-esque turn of events, Caleb’s head pops out and his hair floats to settle around him, still puffy from the static of the material.  
Molly laughs at this, a soft, surprised little sound and Caleb pouts even as Molly folds his sweater and sets it aside,

“It is _not_ funny.”

“No.” Molly agrees and turns back, cups Caleb’s cheek and presses in for a long, sweet kiss, “It’s cute.”

Caleb makes a noise like a pinched balloon losing air, and Molly continues to chuckle their way through sitting in Caleb’s lap and easing him out of his undershirt, suffering much less with this than with the turtleneck. They trace the shape of Caleb’s collarbone, sharp under his skin, their fingertips light and grazing.  
Caleb may hate himself. Caleb may hate everything that he is. But in Molly’s eyes, through their lens, nothing is more perfect than Caleb. They duck in to kiss at the underside of his jaw and trail down his neck and Caleb smiles above them, arms locked loosely around their back. They press one more slow, soft kiss to his shoulder and rest their, lips to his skin and eyes closed and Caleb strokes a hand through their hair, untangling the remainder of the braid he’s released.

“This is good, _ja?_ ” Caleb murmurs to their shadow-strewn form across him, “This is- this is nice?”

Molly only hums in response, Caleb can feel them smile against his skin, he doesn’t need their words, not really.

“Good.” Caleb smiles and presses his face to Molly’s hair, “I am glad that you are happy.”

“Are you happy, Caleb?”

He can feel the movement and the heat of the words on his shoulder, and he smiles,

“I cannot remember the last time I was so happy.”

“Good.” Molly murmurs, and kisses Caleb’s shoulder once more before they slip out of his grip and work on stripping their clothes down instead. Caleb smiles up at them, kicks his way out of his pants and crawls his way into bed, blinks slowly at Molly until they follow.

They wind tight around him, and Caleb winds right back, kissing anywhere on Molly that he can- mostly their throat, their jaw, their shoulder, and Molly reciprocates in the same kind, tangling their fingers in his hair.  
Their kisses slow, their grip loosens slowly as they grow tired, sleepy wrapped together, warm and soft and _safe._

“I love you, Caleb.” Molly slurs over a sluggish tongue, and this time, Caleb hears it. He presses a final tired kiss to Molly’s throat,

“Love you too.” He murmurs, snuggles in closer, and the two of them fall slowly and finally to sleep.

 

They wake in the morning just as soft and sleepy. It’s their day off. They have this to themselves.

“Nott will probably have left already.” Caleb half-hums to Molly’s chest, and Molly squeezes him with a murmur, a wordless murmur, and Caleb slowly pulls them both upright, breathing warm and honey-thick and full of one another.

“What do you want to do today?” Molly asks, carding their fingers through Caleb’s hair and splaying out the tangles. Caleb, still half asleep, just gives a soft whining sound and pushes his way closer to hide his face from the light. Molly chuckles at him and rubs slow circles into his back.

“An answer sometime today, my love.”

“Not yet.” Caleb whines, presses ever closer, “Not now. I don’t want to worry about the rest of the world, not today.”

“That can be arranged.” Molly smiles, shifts their fingers to Caleb’s chin and gently pushes him back so that they can kiss him. Caleb relaxes against them, drawing fingertips up and down Molly’s side.

“Perhaps we should cook something, for Nott. She has made enough cakes, I’m sure an actual meal would not go amiss.” and he shifts from them and slips off of the bed, stands to stretch.

“I’m sure it wouldn’t.” Molly’s amusement is audible, they step up behind him and Caleb feels their smile against the back of his neck as they kiss there, wind their arms around his waist and they hum, Caleb feels the reverberation.

“I do not think that cooking is quite safe when we’re half naked.” Caleb presses against them, completely, wonderfully content.

 

 

They come into the kitchen half an hour and many kisses later, dressed, but only in oversized shirts that belong to Caleb, and Molly draws it up over their face and breathes in the smell of leather and books that follows Caleb where his life touches.

“What d’you want to make for her?” Molly asks, chin on Caleb’s shoulder and arms around his waist. Caleb hums and tips his head to press to Molly’s horn gently,

“I was thinking perhaps something with vegetables. Perhaps- ah- perhaps a roast dinner? We do have some beef in the fridge…”

“Does Nott not get many veggies?” Molly slips to the side, opens the fridge with one hand to Caleb’s hip, their tail waving slowly behind them,

“She doesn’t cook them herself, she thinks it is a waste of time. So no, she does not really.”

“Shame. I’m good at roasting vegetables, Fjord tells me I’m a gift.”

“You are a gift, not just for your cooking, just- you are the perfect present.”

“And I’m yours, darling.” Molly turns with their eyes half-lidded and soft and they pull gently at Caleb’s shirt until he steps in and kisses them.

“I am the luckiest man in the world.” Caleb breathes as he draws back. Molly chuckles warmly,

“Yeah. You are, I’m glad of it.”

“Modest.” Caleb teases, turning from Molly to head for the potato cupboard instead, and they laugh softly as they withdraw the beef and the vegetables from the fridge,

“You love me anyway.” they lilt right back at him, and Caleb, invisible in the bottom cupboard, smiles,

“I do.”

 

 

It feels for a few hours there that the world has been put right. In their kitchen, cooking the meat and preparing the vegetables and then roasting those, too- Molly insists on garlic, which Caleb does not quite agree with, but he’d let his tiefling get away with murder if he thought it would make them smile.  
In the gap of time where they can’t do anything until the beef has cooked a little more, they sit in the main room together.

Caleb shuffles to sit straddling Molly.

“Hello?” they chuckle, confused but with their hands at his hips anyway.

“Hold still.” Caleb murmurs, he leans slowly over Molly, brushing their hair back behind their ear and running his thumb over the point.

The point that has been _haunting him_ for closing in on nine solid months.

 _Gods_ , it’s about time.

So now, because he can, because he’s allowed to do this, because _Molly is his partner,_ he shuffles down and wriggles until his chin sits in the curve of Molly’s horn so that he can very, very gently…

Hold the point in his mouth.

Molly, on their part, just obeys every unspoken command. Silent, unjudging, just sitting there, waiting, they trust they will get an explanation.

Caleb stays there a few long seconds before sitting back upright on Molly’s hips, beaming, Molly smiles up at him, head cocked in confusion,

“How long have you been holding in that impulse, Caleb?”

“Ah- about nine months?”

“Nine-?” Molly cuts themself off by grabbing at Caleb’s collar and heaving him down as they pull themself up, kissing him fiercely. Caleb makes a muffled sound of surprise, and kisses back- of course he does- shifts his arms around their neck instead. It’s only when Molly begins to shudder involuntarily at the effort of holding themself up do they split.

“Nine months.” Molly breathes as they settle back down, “ _Caleb._ ”

“I know.” Caleb groans, guilt at the edges of his being, and Molly shakes their head marginally,

“You’re adorable.”

“What-”

“Adorable. You. I love you.”

“I- ah- well. Yes. It did keep me up at night for a good while.” Caleb admits and Molly sighs, brushing their thumbs against Caleb’s skin under his shirt.

“You should have just done that. You know, I wouldn’t have minded.”

“I did not want to be… I suppose, _creepy,_ I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Darling, I would do anything to make you smile. And that’s a feeling that predates my attraction to you- ever since the first time I saw you smile, I knew that I’d move the world and all nine hells for you to smile again.”

Caleb turns a very pretty bright red, and Molly does not try to fight the smile that fills them with the rush of love and adoration for this man. _Their_ man. Their Caleb.

They sigh, content, and shift to open their arms, inviting Caleb down. He does as he’s silently asked, lays flat across Molly and cuddles into their shoulder.

“How long before we need to get back up?” they ask,

“About fifteen minutes.” Caleb murmurs, busy pressing kisses to the underside of their jaw. His nose is cold against their skin, sends shivers across them with every little nudge, they tighten their grip.

“So we don’t have to move yet. Good. Good.”

“ _Nein,_ not for a while.” Caleb snuggles his head under Molly’s chin and closes his eyes, a warm happy smile on his face. Molly can’t see it, can’t feel it, but knows it’s there regardless.

 

The meal comes out, somewhat surprisingly, rather well.

They’re plating it up to keep warm in the oven when Caleb’s phone buzzes a few times in rapid succession, and he scrambles for it with a quick kiss from Molly.

 

**FROM: Nott**

caleb come quick!!!!! we need your help!!!!!!

 

**FROM: Nott**

im at kiris rn you need to come and help ussss!!!!

 

“I need to go.” Caleb is moving for his coat before he’s fully read the texts, and Molly looks over their shoulder,  
“Yeah? Alright? When will you be back?”

“Not sure.” Caleb shrugs his coat on and comes to Molly, grabs their collar and pulls them in for a kiss, “I won’t be long, though, Kiri does not live far. I’ll be home as soon as possibly, _Schatz._ ”

“Alright.” Molly darts in for one last quick kiss before they let him go, “Come home soon. Love you.”

“I love you too.” Caleb smiles over his shoulder as he shuffles out. Molly waves.

 

The food is plated up, leftovers wrapped and put away, Molly puts the plates in the cooling oven just to keep it warm for a while.

And then they go exploring.

 

Caleb’s apartment is, at this point, their second home. It has been, they think, since the first night they stayed here. They miss Caleb acutely, already, as they do when he leaves their sight but it’s nice to be here.

They move into Caleb’s room.

Caleb’s top drawer in his bedside cabinet contains two rows of underwear, and three spare pairs of glasses. There’s some pens scattered in there, too. It’s messy, for Caleb, shockingly so and Molly smiles at it. Closes the drawer.

Caleb’s _second_ drawer is files. Three of them, to be exact, for various reasons and letters and documents. Molly doesn’t pry, they already know they’re there. Caleb had once sent them into this drawer to grab Caleb’s name change documents from the bottom file.

And Caleb’s bottom drawer, Molly does not open. They know that’s where Caleb keeps his medical business, painkillers, antibiotics, his T, they know better than to go in there.

Molly potters along, checking various drawers, the cupboard, and then they find something _very_ interesting.  
They send Caleb a picture. It’s a good one, even they must admit- the lighting is soft and stains them in pretty sunrise tones, it glints off of their tongue stud, just a little bit. It’s the only bit of their jewellery they have on or in right now.

 

Caleb heaves the box up a little higher, grunting, and Nott trails behind him with a phone in each hand- one hers, one his.

“Thanks, Caleb.” She beams up at him, though he can’t see it, “That box was way too big for me or Kiri.”

“It’s no problem. Do you know how long you will be? Molly and I made food for us all.”

“Oh!” Nott exclaims excitedly, “That’s nice! I shouldn’t be more than an hour, this is the last of the big things.”

Caleb drops the box as carefully as he can in the hall. His phone vibrates in Nott’s hands, and she opens the message automatically.

Hm.  
Interesting.

“Caleb, look at this!”

He comes over, curious, crouches to look at the photo of Molly, sat obviously in Caleb’s room, their hair loose around their shoulders, their tongue poking out ever so slightly.  
They are wearing one of Caleb’s argyle knit sweaters.

_i found your nerd sweaters x <3 _

Yes they did.

Caleb just sort of… stares for a moment, slowly turning a pretty bright red, he tugs the collar of his turtleneck up and over his face, making a soft whining sound. Nott cackles and steps back, takes a photo of him.  
She sends it back.

 

Molly’s phone vibrates on the arm of the chair, and they scramble to pick it up.

The _best_ photo of Caleb they’ve ever seen, captioned,

_I think you broke him! -N_

Molly didn’t ever expect that they could be this in love with one man, one person, so much that it aches in their bones, seeps from their joints and makes their fingers tingle ever so slightly. But in the name of the Moonweaver and by all the Gods above, they feel their heart fading from them, fleeing to Caleb’s palms instead. They huff, fall back on Caleb’s bed and cover their face, they can feel their flush crawling up their neck to their cheeks. It feels as hot as it looks, red-violet and burning.

They do not take off the sweater.

They fall asleep.

 

 

 

They wake to Caleb, coming in and closing the door. The sky outside is dark, the room lit dimly only by the bright city lights coming in through the window.

“ _Hallo._ ” Caleb greets quietly, and shifts to turn the lamp on and light the room up around Molly, not that they haven’t filled his world like the sun.

“How long’ve I been asleep?” they ask as they sit up, rubbing the sleep from their eyes,  
  
“I’m not sure. I got back an hour ago, Nott came home with me- there is still your food, if you want it? I didn’t want to wake you…”

Molly hums and holds his arms out for Caleb,  
  
“No, I’m alright. I’ll take it in the morning, though, it looks good.”   
  
“It is.” Caleb affirms, “And your roast vegetables are- good.”

“Good?”  
  
“They were delicious. But I had to brush my teeth three times and mouthwash twice to get the smell and taste of garlic out of my mouth.”

Molly laughs, makes the grabby hand motion, and Caleb sighs halfway through shucking off his pants, his shirt half-unbuttoned.

“I will come to you only if you finish my buttons.” He bargains, and Molly scrunches and unscrunches their fingers for him,

“Deal! Deal, deal, deal, come here!”

And Caleb does, steps out of his pants as he comes shuffling to the bed, collapses on top of Molly and smiles as they laugh, he nuzzles his way under Molly’s chin and feels them wind their arms around him, unbuttoning his shirt one-handed.

“You’re entirely too skilled at this.” Caleb smiles, presses the words to Molly’s jaw with a kiss.

“I have a lot of thoughts about undressing you.” Molly purrs right back, and Caleb gives a soft hum.

“You certainly seem to be getting your way.”  
  
Molly stills, the buttons undone, their fingers ghosting over the skin of Caleb’s stomach, the trail of ginger from his belly button into his waistband, appreciating the texture under their fingertips.

“Is this okay?”

There’s a pause from Caleb, too, there, still with his arms around Molly’s shoulders, his face pressed to Molly’s neck,

“It… is. So far. It- it might change, I don’t-”

“If you’re not sure, if you change your mind, you’ll tell me?” Molly asks gently, nudges until Caleb sits up and meets their eyes, or just over their shoulder at least, “You won’t let me do anything you’re not one hundred percent on board with?”

“I will tell you.” Caleb’s voice is husky, he shifts back to press his face to Molly’s neck and kisses there, “I promise. I promise.”

Molly’s breath comes in a huff, a flustered, breathless huff that could be a gasp in reverse, and when Caleb kisses again, a little lower, they make the same noise.

“Huh,” Caleb’s breath is warm against Molly’s throat, “You enjoy that.”

It’s not a question as much as it is a statement said with a reverent tone of disbelief, and Molly takes a shaking breath.

“Yes. Yes, a lot, please do it again.”

Caleb has never been able to deny Molly anything that they want, so he slips back to their throat and kisses again, lighter this time, a trail from their jaw to their collarbone. Their fingers dig hard into his hips and stomach, where they press over bone, Caleb is sure he’ll bruise.  
And _oh_ , what a wonderful thing that would be.

“Molly,” He presses their own name into the softest part of their throat, “Marks- can- are you, okay?”

“ _Very_ hard yes.” Molly shifts Caleb in their lap, and the change of positioning, damn it, _ensures_ that Caleb can feel just how hard Molly already is. It’s all- something like amusing, to Caleb.

This is not an experience that he can say he’s had before, but he’s aware of the theory and he- he trusts Molly. He trusts Molly to tell him if they don’t like something, just as they’re trusting him to tell them the same.

So he kisses the same soft trail, finds the place where Molly shudders hardest, and picks that spot in particular.

At the first gentle nip that Caleb gives, Molly bucks under him and sends him close to flying. It ends in more of roll, Caleb coming to a tentative, sausage-state of stop at Molly’s side and there’s a pause as they pant silently, mindlessly, staring at Caleb. He stares right back.

“Sorry.” Molly’s hands are on Caleb immediately, yanking him up, “Sorry- please don’t stop. Are- are you still doing alright?”

He is. As of right now, as least, he’s- enjoying this. _A lot._

So Caleb scrambles up and slings one leg over Molly’s legs, one knee either side, effectively straddling them.

Molly’s hands find his hips automatically, and when they tug, Caleb sinks quite willingly.

“Oh.” Caleb murmurs, and Molly groans softly at the friction- something from them along the lines of _finally_.

Caleb winds his arms around Molly’s neck and steadies his breathing, pressing his hips forward just- just a little, just enough, enough to make Molly groan again. They reach a sort of rhythm of Molly grinding forward, and Caleb pressing back, both of their breath coming in short, shallow gasps. Caleb, as gently as he can with the movement and the jerking around, rests his forehead to Molly’s.

“I love you.” He gasps without meaning to, he can feel the sweat beading on his skin, and Molly tilts their head to kiss him hard,

“I love you too.” they breathe when they return to their positioning, their next thrust angled _just_ right- Caleb gasps and slips, his head to Molly’s shoulder and turned, he can _feel_ their smirk.   
  
“So that’s the ticket, hm?”

“ _Ja,_ Mollymauk, _ja-a_ _oh_.”  
  
Molly, it seems, was on point with their bragging about being able to mimic something they’ve done once- every upward thrust following is at just the right angle to drive Caleb _batshit_ and he decides to show this in the best way he knows.

He _bites._

Not hard- he’s sure that’s to come- but it’s enough for Molly to whine and pull at Caleb’s hips.

“This- this isn’t enough- Caleb, _more-_ ”

“What do you need?” Caleb’s shocked by the stability of his own voice, and Molly whimpers, clawing at Caleb’s back as best they can without actually leaving marks- it ends up more of an itch. A habit, like when they’re running their nail over the peacock feather on their cheek.

“ _More_.” Molly tries, “ _You._ ”

“I’m at your disposal.” Caleb kisses at Molly’s neck again, “You’ll just- have to move me.”  
  
“You’ll still tell me if something’s wrong?” Molly pulls back to study his face, and Caleb nods,

“I promise.”

And then he blinks, just blinks, and he’s on his back with Molly hovering over him and something feels- different. Odd. He’s not sure if it’s good or bad, not yet.

“Are you alright?” Molly’s voice is breathless and gentle, they’re still wearing his sweater, but no pants- only underwear. Caleb doesn’t let his gaze linger, it’s not his most pleasant sight.

But he’s still hashing out his own boundaries.

He trusts Molly. That’s enough.

“ _Gut,_ for now.” Caleb assures, and then Molly is sinking, kneeling, positioned in just the right place to grind their clothed length against Caleb if they push forward a little. They do, a few times, just for the pleasure of watching Caleb wriggle.

They lean forward and rest their hands against Caleb’s chest, brushing their thumbs against the thick scars on Caleb’s chest, the ones from his top surgery, and raise their eyebrows when Caleb whines and presses up against them.

“Sensitive?”

“Not- not so much, just- the idea?”

“I understand that.” Molly murmurs, and ducks down to kiss lightly over the line of each scar. Caleb threads his fingers into Molly’s hair, tugs inadvertently, and chokes off a gasp.  
Molly _moans._ Loudly.

“Do _that_ again.”

Caleb does, tugs upward this time, pulls Molly by the hair up to hiss him full on the mouth. He ends up gasping against their lips instead, as the shift grinds against him again.

Molly’s hands shuffle and skim down, down Caleb’s sides, and their mouth follows behind, kissing a line down the centre of his chest, over the soft of his stomach, the the trail of ginger that disappears into the pale blue waistband of his underwear.

Caleb- he’s not _sure,_ he doesn’t really have a comparison, but he thinks he might be turned on.

“Still okay?” Molly looks up, it’s obscene, the way they look with their head so close to being between his thighs.

“I- I don’t know.” Caleb answers honestly, and Molly kisses his hipbone,  
  
“Do you want to stop?”

And they stay there, still and waiting for Caleb to mull it over, there’s no trace of impatience on their face even though Caleb can feel just how hard they are, pressed to his shin desperately.

“This bit.” Caleb says gently, loosens his hand from Molly’s hair, “Me.”

“Are you sure?” Molly asks, quick, and then backtracks, “It’s alright, if you are, I just- I want to be sure you’re not just putting this off to try and please me. I know you’d do anything for me.”

“I would- come here- I would do anything for you,” Caleb punctuates by kissing them, “Including telling you the truth.”

“Alright.” Molly kisses _him_ , “So what do you want?”

“What do _you_ want? And I will tell you if I am not up to it.”

“I- I want you to tell me what you know is off limits.” Molly shifts to lie beside him, twines their fingers together at Caleb’s hip, and Caleb takes a soft, steadying breath,

“Anything involving my- my genitalia- I’ve not had, um, that surgery. Yet. I suffered recovering from top surgery and it’s left something of a bad taste in my mouth-”

“Darling, truly, you don’t have to explain to me.” Molly squeezes his hand, “If you want to just- just stop, that’s fine, too.”

There’s a pause, and in that momentary silence, Caleb realises how much he’s shaken himself.

“I- _ja_ , I am sorry, Molly.”

“Hey, it’s alright.” Molly shifts so that they can brush Caleb’s sweat-damp hair from his face, “I love you. When- or if- you’re ever ready, we’ll get to it, but not a moment before. But, uh- do you mind if I disappear for, hm. About ten, fifteen minutes?”

Caleb chews his lip,

“You’re probably best doing that here.” He tells them, “Just- Nott?”

“Right. Yeah, of course, uh-”

“Do you want me to- to leave?”

“I don’t really mind, honestly. Voyeurism is- sorta hot. But if you’re not feeling great-”

“I will stick around.” Caleb sits, smiles, and that sets Molly’s heart right, they sit beside him and Caleb kisses them, slower, sweeter than before but there’s still a dull heat to it and Molly has to bite their lip as they draw away.

“I- ah- I have lube. In the bottom drawer. If you need it? I’m not all that well-educated on masturbation.”

 

 

Outside, Nott has scrambled as close to the TV as she can go, and she still has earphones on, wincing a little. She loves her boy. Really, she does.

But there’s a _limit,_ Caleb.

  


It’s reaching one in the morning when Caleb and Molly finally curl up together to sleep, satisfied and content at life.  
And then Molly hears Caleb sniffle.

“Darling? Are you alright, have I- did I go too far?”

“ _Nein,_ it’s been- I’ve had a wonderful day, Molly.”

His nerd sweater lays folded on the floor at the end of the bed,

“So what’s wrong?” Molly brushes a thumb against Caleb’s cheek, swiping away the tears,

“Everything goes back to normal tomorrow.” Caleb hiccups a little, and kisses Molly without thinking. _Without thinking._ Molly chuckles against his lips, into the warm air of his room.

“What’s so funny?” Caleb frowns, and Molly’s thumb swipes again.

“Darling, nothing ever needs to be normal again.”

They kiss him, sweet and soft and wonderful, and they draw him in right.

 

“I love you.” Caleb murmurs to Molly’s collarbone, and Molly kisses the top of his head,

 

“I love you too. Goodnight, Caleb.”

 

“ _Gute Nacht._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With all the difficulty ive had writing this fic, and the nice note this chapter ended on, i decided it was best to end it here. it's been a sweet run, if i ever write for this au again, it'll be posted as a sequel work!  
> thanks for stickin with me!


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